


The (Not So) Secret Lives of Unicorns

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And the plot makes little sense, Angry Thranduil, Asexual Character, Bargaining, Beorn's House, Big Brother Fíli, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Thranduil, Dwarf Courting, Dwarven Traditions, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gandalf Meddles, Gandalf is a Troll, Goblin Town, Hair Braiding, Happy Days in Rivendell, Happy Ending, Happy times there too, Healing, Honestly Bilbo is kind of a snarky bastard in this one, Inconsistent tones, Let's just skip Laketown entirely, M/M, Magic, Matchmaking, Misty Mountains, Not Canon Compliant, POV Multiple, Plot Twists, Protective Fíli, Ridiculous, Romance, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Shapeshifting, Shovel Talk, Smaug is still kind of a dick, Sweet, This fic is made of tangents, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Thorin is also oblivious, Travel, Unhappy days in Mirkwood, Unicorn Bilbo, Unicorns, Unicorns are magic, Virgin Kíli, Virgins are also magic, courting gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6495421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a unicorn.  Kíli is a virgin.  Together they fight goblins and cuddle epically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wizard Meddles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winnett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnett/gifts).



> A welcome home present. Unicorn!Bilbo as promised. Hopefully I managed to hit some of your high points, though I make no claims of rationality, canonality, or any other 'ality because this story begins weird and then goes off the deep end rapidly.

Everyone knew that Bilbo Baggins was part unicorn on his mother's side.  
  
Most of the Shire was part something these days – pure-blooded halflings being few and far between – but polite folk did not discuss such things when strangers were around. Polite hobbits did not stare at the little nub of bone on Bilbo's forehead or make a fuss when Rosie Took breathed fire; they simply brought the injured to Bag End when their wounds went foul.  
  
The Shire kept its secrets close and lived in peace because of this, all manner of legendary creatures finding safety in its bounds. For hobbits always bred true and while Bilbo was the only unicorn for miles, he was considered quite normal compared to his Tookish relatives.  
  
In fact, Bilbo was thought to be rather boring until the day that one mad wizard walked into his life. Gandalf was determined to drag the hobbit on an adventure despite several clear refusals and the sheer ridiculousness of calling _him_ a burglar. The wizard must have been smoking something positively mind-bending to think that was a good idea and Bilbo sent him away without a second's thought.  
  
Honestly, the unicorn had forgotten all about Gandalf when someone knocked on his door that evening as he was sitting down to eat. If Bilbo had remembered, he probably would have hidden beneath the dinner table until his visitors gave up. But instead the hobbit only wondered who could be calling at this hour, answering the knock to find a dozen dwarves and one smug wizard standing on his porch. Well, the wizard was standing; the dwarves were falling headlong through his door.  
  
“Damn it, Gandalf,” Bilbo cursed as he dodged one flailing arm. “You've been smoking too much pipe-weed and I hope your teeth turn brown.”  
  
Bilbo would have liked to close the door and go back to his dinner, brushing off the wizard's talk of burglars and his uninvited guests. But the hobbit couldn't do that; it would have been easier to make himself stop breathing because one of the dwarves lying in his entryway was so chaste it almost hurt and while Gandalf was a cheating, interfering bastard, he had also won this round.  
  
Unicorns were drawn to virgins – those pure of mind and body – and Bilbo had never felt such a bright soul before. He could no more ignore that call than his mother could have ignored Bungo Baggins and Belladonna had fought off three other suitors for the right to marry him. Indeed, Bilbo's mother had been lucky. Her relationship with Bungo had lasted for a lifetime when most unicorns were forced to settle for a fleeting dream instead.  
  
Bilbo himself had settled for contentment. The hobbit had settled for good food, good books, and good friends instead of romance because he'd seen the love his parents shared and he'd been holding out for someone special in his life.  
  
Of course, the unicorn hadn't expected meeting someone special to require burglary, a wizard or actual traveling, but that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered but the dwarf who shone in his mind like a diamond and Bilbo would do much worse than steal to remain near such a light. The hobbit didn't know if this dwarf could love him but he knew he had to try; he would regret it for a lifetime otherwise.  
  
Which meant that Bilbo was going on an adventure whether he wanted to or not. Some unknown adventure since Gandalf had completely failed to mention the actual details of his quest. But the hobbit was a unicorn – hard to kill and twice as pretty – and he was sure that he'd be fine.  
  
Bilbo just needed to be accepted by the wizard's company and his chances should be good. If these dwarves were looking for a burglar in the Shire then they must be desperate and the hobbit was prepared to work for free.  
  
All of this ran through his mind in an instant, his decision made before the first dwarf struggled to his feet. So instead of shouting at his uninvited guests, Bilbo just smiled at them – his grin a little manic before he reined it in. It was difficult for the hobbit to act normal when he felt so twitterpated and his heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest.  
  
However, the dwarves didn't seem to notice his distraction and Gandalf didn't comment, strolling into Bag End like he owned the place. The smug old bat could use a lesson in good manners and if Bilbo hadn't been so desperate to meet his virgin, he would have thrown the wizard out.  
  
At least the rest of his guests greeted their host politely and the hobbit managed to welcome them into his smial without stammering. He returned their bows in kind, thankful that dwarves didn't share the human habit of shaking hands with strangers since most of his guests were far from virginal. The unicorn could stand near them but it wasn't pleasant, his level of discomfort a fair gauge of their hearts' innocence. 

Thankfully Bilbo could also tell that none of these dwarves were evil; they were just fond of revelry. Indeed, his guests seemed to be quite jolly as he waved them toward the pantry and told them to dig in. If these dwarves insisted on dropping by uninvited then they would have to scrounge up their own dinner. His wish to join their company only stretched hospitality so far.

Besides the unicorn had far more important things than cooking on his mind. Specifically his dwarf, who had been on the bottom of the pile and looked rather rumpled when he finally stood up. Rumpled but still the most gorgeous thing that Bilbo had ever seen and the hobbit barely even noticed the other dwarf standing next to him.  
  
“Fíli and Kíli. At your service,” the pair said with a bow, Kíli giving the unicorn a grin that made him want to swoon.  
  
“I am very glad to meet you,” Bilbo told the dwarf sincerely. “Please, hang up your coat and weapons. Make yourself at home. If you're hungry, I can cook you something or there's fruit and cheese in the pantry. Please, come in, come in. You are more than welcome here.”  
  
The unicorn knew that he was probably coming off a little crazy since most people didn't greet total strangers quite so fervently. But he couldn't help it. Bilbo could barely keep from falling to his knees in benediction, stopping himself from staring was far too much to ask. Indeed, the hobbit completely ignored Fíli as he drank in every detail of his virgin's face.  
  
The dwarf was taller than Bilbo and carried himself like a warrior, though his eyes were too kind to have seen much bloodshed in his life. Truthfully, Kíli seemed rather young compared to most of his companions – the hobbit was no connoisseur of dwarven ages, but the lack of a full beard implied a lack of years. However, Kíli's features were strong, his jaw firm if only lightly stubbled and his loose dark hair framed a surprisingly handsome face. Surprising because, in Bilbo's experience, people who looked like that were rarely virgins long.  
  
Yet Kíli was. Kíli was young and chaste and beautiful and yet it wasn't just his chastity that made him overpowering. Unicorns didn't actually turn into idiots whenever a virgin crossed their path – Bilbo had a bone to pick with whoever wrote those legends; there was no mindless drooling here.  
  
Well, maybe a little drooling since the hobbit could certainly appreciate that view. But what made Kíli truly magnetic was the heart inside his body not his pretty smile, innocence and joy radiating like sunshine from his skin.  
  
Bilbo wanted to curl around the dwarf and cuddle for the rest of his natural life. He wanted to ply Kíli with tea and cookies, bring him bouquets of flowers in the springtime, and see that nothing ever made him frown again. The dwarf was just adorable and the urge to pinch his cheeks was almost overwhelming when he met the hobbit’s eyes and blushed.  
  
Kíli couldn't help the blush. No one had ever looked at him like that before. If their host were staring at Fíli or Dwalin, the archer would have understood. Dwalin was the only person who came close to matching Thorin for quantity of suitors and Fíli had quite a following amongst the younger dwarrowmaids. Although, in truth, it would have made more sense for Bilbo to admire any other member of their company – even Ori was more attractive in the archer's eyes.  
  
No one pined for Kíli. He was too young, too plain, too silly, and much too clueless about matters of the heart. Truthfully, the dwarf found the whole business quite confusing and he couldn't actually imagine sleeping with anyone.  
  
Fíli seemed to like it – he liked it quite a lot considering the stories he'd told his little brother – but Kíli had never felt that urge himself. He had been content with friendship, truly, and he wouldn't have known what to do if a lass had looked his way. Or a lad, for that matter, hence the dwarf's confusion now.  
  
Kíli was out of his depth, unable to do anything but blush as Bilbo led him to the dining room. The hobbit barely seemed to notice the rest of his companions, fretting over Kíli's comfort while the other dwarves emptied Bag End's pantry down to the last wheel of moldy cheese.  
  
When they had finished, there was quite a feast laid out on Bilbo's dinner table and the archer sat down to eat quite happily. Kíli was starving after several hard day's travel and at least while eating, he didn't have to think about Bilbo's charming grin. But soon the dwarf started to feel a guilty about the mess his friends were causing, Thorin's company repaying the hobbit's kindness with wanton gluttony.  
  
So he dived into the chaos to grab out the choicest morsels and make sure the hobbit ate. It was only polite but Kíli's offerings just made Bilbo's smile more adoring and the archer couldn't help but flush again at the soft look in his eyes.  
  
He grew even redder when Nori whistled from across the table and Fíli smirked at him. Even the wizard let out a chortle from his corner, though that could have been the pipe-weed, and Kíli was ready to die from embarrassment by the time their meal was done.  
  
However, the archer couldn't be mad at Bilbo for his interest – _hobbits are probably just friendlier than other folks_ – and so he started the other dwarves on washing up. His companions had eaten everything in the pantry, the least they could do was take care of the mess. Kíli didn't do it just to make the hobbit happy, though the way that Bilbo smiled at the shining dishes made him duck his head down bashfully.  
  
The dwarves had just finished their scrubbing when a loud knock rang through the smial and there was only one person who could be arriving now. Thorin always liked to make an entrance – he claimed that being late enhanced his majesty – and he swept into Bag End like the king that he should be.  
  
Gandalf went to greet Thorin while the rest of his companions followed after and Kíli fully expected Bilbo to swoon over his uncle’s brooding ruggedness. But instead the hobbit took one look at Thorin and bristled like he’d just smelled something foul before stepping back toward Kíli. He didn't stop until he was nearly plastered to the archer’s side.  
  
“So you’re the leader of this company?” Bilbo asked in lieu of greeting. “I don’t like your choice of wizards – although, knowing Gandalf, he probably picked himself – but you’ve still found your fourteenth member here.”  
  
“You?” Thorin answered. “You don’t look much like a burglar.”  
  
“And you don't look much like a king,” the hobbit replied with a disdainful snort as the dwarf lord's eyes narrowed dangerously.  
  
“ _Bilbo!_ ” Kíli hissed. Making Thorin angry was never a good plan and he didn't want the hobbit to get hurt. That would certainly be poor repayment for his kindness and his meal. For a moment the archer thought that Bilbo was going to keep arguing, but then he glanced back up at Kíli and his expression softened once again.  
  
“I apologize. I was not expecting company,” the hobbit said, raising his hands in conciliation. “However, appearances are deceiving and if you want a burglar then a burglar I'll be. I promise I will be far more useful on this journey than you think.”  
  
“Really? You are prepared to face a dragon in my service?” the dwarf lord asked skeptically.  
  
Thorin truly was a master of haughtiness – the dwarf had a lot of practice sneering at humans twice his height – and Kíli couldn't help feeling protective of the hobbit now. Bilbo kept pressing closer to the archer with every step that Thorin took until Kíli had to wrap an arm around his waist just to keep them both upright. Yet when he glanced at Bilbo's face, the hobbit's expression spoke of distaste instead of fear even as he patted the archer's hand absently.  
  
“Look, there's no need to loom like that. I'm a unicorn; I can feel your tortured soul,” Bilbo told the dwarf lord. “You don't need to wow me with your majesty.”  
  
“You're a what?”  
  
“A unicorn, of course... Didn't Gandalf tell you?” the hobbit replied, sounding quite perplexed.  
  
“What's a unicorn? Some kind of special thief?” Thorin asked before shaking his head dismissively. “I don't care what you call yourself as long as you will steal for me.”  
  
“...You know what, sure. That's exactly what I meant,” Bilbo said, throwing his hands into the air with an exasperated sigh. “In fact, I'm probably the best thief in the Shire and I want to join your company. Wherever you plan on going, let me travel at your side.”  
  
“And when our quest takes us to the Lonely Mountain, will you be brave enough to steal from Smaug the Terrible?” the dwarf lord sneered. “Will you stand against the fire drake with no one else to aid you? Rob the monster who slew three hundred dwarves with one swipe of razor claws and drove my people from our home more than sixty years ago?”  
  
“Sorry, did you say Smaug?” the hobbit asked, interrupting Thorin's rant when the dwarf lord stopped to breathe. “And were those dwarves all warriors? Or were they innocents?”  
  
Bilbo's rapid-fire questions knocked the dwarf off balance, Thorin not expecting such interrogation from his potential burglar.  
  
Although, Kíli could hardly blame his uncle for his confusion when the archer was quite confused himself. This hobbit wasn't acting normal by any standard measure and indeed, none of Kíli's companions seemed entirely sure what they should make of him. So there was a long pause in the conversation as the dwarves looked at each other, trading shrugs and murmurs while Gandalf chuckled to himself. The wizard could have answered Bilbo's questions but he was enjoying the show too much to interfere.  
  
“Yes, fine, his name is Smaug,” Thorin said finally. “And I believe most of the dead were warriors, but what difference does that make? If three hundred soldiers could not kill him and hardened souls have fled mere rumors of Smaug's presence, how can I trust that you will not turn and run as well?”  
  
“Because I have no fear of dragons, not ones named Smaug at least,” Bilbo told Thorin evenly. “Your wizard may be a liar and a meddler, but he was right to come to me. I will see you and your companions unharmed to Erebor and I will confront your dragon. However, if you doubt my courage, you need not pay me any wages; the only prize I seek is not yours to offer me.”  
  
While the dwarf lord was still pretty sure that Bilbo Baggins was a nutter, the promise of more gold for his people was enough to sway him now. Gandalf had promised to find his company's fourteenth member and Thorin's favorite sort of burglar was the sort who worked for free.  
  
“In that case, welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,” the dwarf lord said, clapping Bilbo on the shoulder and then striding toward the dining room. “Now, I am starving and our wizard swore that there would be food aplenty here.”  
  
“Yes, of course. I'll make a stew,” Dori offered as the other dwarves followed Thorin. They disappeared into the kitchen, Fíli giving his brother a saucy wink before walking through the door and leaving him alone with Bilbo in the hall. Kíli knew that he should follow, but he had felt the hobbit shudder when his uncle touched his shoulder and he wanted to make sure that their new burglar was all right.  
  
“Are you okay? Thorin didn't hurt you, did he?” the archer asked. Thorin didn't always know his own strength and the hobbit was so small; his uncle could have hurt him easily.  
  
“I am fine, my dear,” Bilbo replied, looking up at Kíli with another blinding smile. “You are sweet to worry but I am much stronger than I look. And as nice as this is, you should probably release me so that we can join the others. I want to know our strategy.”  
  
“Sorry, I'm so sorry,” Kíli stammered, letting the hobbit go immediately. He hadn't realized that he was still holding onto Bilbo and he was mortified by his impropriety. Though their burglar didn't seem to mind.  
  
“It is quite all right,” Bilbo said as he took the archer by the hand. He led Kíli into the dining room to rejoin the others – everyone but Dori who was still making soup. The other dwarves were watching Gandalf and Thorin have a very heated argument about the best way to kill a dragon and normally Kíli would have had a few suggestions of his own. But right now the archer couldn't have spoken if his life depended on it; he was too busy staring at his hand in disbelief.  
  
No one had held Kíli's hand in years, not since he was a child, and yet Bilbo had intertwined their fingers easily. The hobbit hadn't hesitated even though they were almost strangers and Kíli should really pull his hand away. But Bilbo's grip felt nice, nice and warm and comforting, and not even Fíli's smirking could make the dwarf let go.  
  
Their burglar must have felt the same because he didn't release Kíli's hand until the meeting broke up for the evening, Gandalf and the dwarves returning to their inn to sleep. Even then, Bilbo seemed reluctant to let the archer leave. Indeed, the hobbit delayed Kíli's departure until Fíli had to drag him from the smial and then stood on the porch watching as the two princes rode away.  
  
“Someone likes you, little brother, and it appears the feeling's mutual,” Fíli chuckled when the younger dwarf glanced back to see if Bilbo was still there. “I never thought I'd see the day.”  
  
“Shut up, Fíli,” the archer retorted. “Bilbo was just being nice, is all.” _Nice enough to still be waiting in the doorway._ “It doesn't mean anything.”  
  
“I think it does, brother, because he was only nice to you. He looked like he wanted to throw up on uncle's boots,” Fíli said with a grin and Kíli could hardly keep looking back at Bilbo after that. Instead the archer kept his eyes fixed on his saddle, ignoring his brother's teasing until he finally gave it up. Only when Fíli was snoring quietly beside him did the dwarf look at his hand and wonder if his brother could be right.

 


	2. A Quest Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else get irritated that chapter titles don't appear until you have at least two chapters posted?

Fíli and Kíli woke up early the next morning, too excited about the beginning of their journey to sleep in much past dawn. However, when the dwarves walked into the stable yard to saddle up their ponies, they found Bilbo already waiting and so the hobbit must have woken even earlier. He was feeding Myrtle apples and when he caught sight of Kíli, his face lit up again.  
  
“I told you, brother; someone likes you,” Fíli whispered, dancing away when the archer tried to elbow him. Kíli could feel his cheeks burning and he really hoped that Bilbo had not overheard.  
  
The worst thing about his brother's teasing was that he didn't really mean it – he couldn't mean it when no one ever wanted Kíli and the archer didn't need to be reminded of that fact. And yet, even though he knew Fíli must be joking, Kíli couldn't deny that Bilbo's smile made his knees a little weak. The hobbit might not be handsome in the dwarven sense, but that did not stop him from being utterly adorable. With his curls and his walking stick and his tiny little horn; he was just too cute for words.  
  
Truthfully, Kíli was rather curious about that horn. The archer had yet to see another hobbit with a similar appendage, though the innkeeper did have tiny antlers and the stable lad a tail. None of those features was exactly normal but despite his curiosity, it did not seem polite to ask.  
  
_Maybe he'll explain once I know him better,_ the dwarf thought hopefully and then promptly forgot all about Bilbo's horn when the hobbit lifted a pack saddle from the rack.  
  
“What are you doing?” the archer asked as Bilbo began to tack up Myrtle. Their burglar seemed to know what he was doing but that just made his choice even weirder. _Does he not plan to ride?_  
  
“I'm getting ready, of course. Should I have chosen a different pony?” the hobbit replied, tying his walking stick and his pack to Myrtle's saddle once he got it settled properly. “Myrtle here didn't think that you would mind.”  
  
“Yes, I mean no, she's a good pony and no one else was using her,” Kíli said, walking over and patting Myrtle on the neck. “But don't you need to ride? We're going to be moving fast and I'd hate to see you left behind.”  
  
“Gandalf really didn't tell you anything, did he?” Bilbo asked instead of answering the archer's question, the seeming non sequitur just confusing Kíli more. “No, of course not. He probably just gave you my address and walked off cackling; he seems like the type. But I don't need to ride and you won't need your pony either; not while I'm around.”  
  
Before the dwarf could ask what in Mahal's name _that_ meant, the air around Bilbo suddenly began to shimmer, bending and warping like the heat off a forge. He grew blurrier and blurrier and then there was a pony standing where there had been a hobbit just before – a pony that looked remarkably like Bilbo in its coloring. A curly brown mane and tail, darker spots of hair right where Bilbo had his freckles, and the largest eyes that Kíli had ever seen on any living thing. Even their horns were similar, although the pony's was much sharper than the hobbit's, that ivory spiral tapering to a wicked point.  
  
“You're a skin-changer?!” Fíli exclaimed while the younger dwarf stared in shock, blinking at their former burglar in disbelief. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the change – _where did all that extra mass even come from?_ – not until the pony took two steps forward and nudged him in the chest.  
  
Because that adoring expression was all Bilbo and Kíli just had to give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He'd wanted to run his fingers through the hobbit's hair ever since he saw it – it was just so _fluffy_ – and now that their burglar was a pony, he had gotten his excuse.  
  
Indeed, Bilbo's hair was just as soft as the archer had imagined, the hobbit – _pony?_ – practically melting when Kíli rubbed his ears. Soon Bilbo was leaning most of his weight against Kíli and if the archer had been any weaker, he would have fallen on his ass. But he was a dwarf, thank you very much, so he just braced his feet and dug his fingers deeper into the pony's mane.  
  
Kíli and Bilbo stayed like that until Fíli loudly cleared his throat behind them, older brother code for: “Stop that right this instant, I need to talk to you.” When Kíli turned around, Fíli had almost finished tacking up all the other ponies, only Fíli's Daisy and the archer's own Bungo left unsaddled now.  
  
“As sickeningly cute as this is, Kí, we need to finish getting ready before uncle and the others come outside,” Fíli said. “You can go back to petting our burglar once you've saddled Bungo up.”  
  
Unfortunately, his brother was right and so Kíli removed his hands from Bilbo's mane with a reluctant sigh, wincing at the look of sheer betrayal that the pony sent to him. The archer actually felt guilty, really really guilty, and that was ridiculous.  
  
“Look, you can understand me, right?” Kíli asked when Bilbo just kept staring at him expectantly. “So you know that I can't keep scratching you. Fíli and I barely managed to convince uncle to let us come along; if he thinks we're shirking our duties, he'll send us home again.”  
  
The archer thought this was a perfectly reasonable explanation for needing to saddle Bungo but the pony just let out a great sigh – a “Why must I deal with these fools?” sort of sigh – and looked heavenward for strength. Then he sidled around so that the dwarf was standing at his flank and turned his nose to point at his own side.  
  
“So... I guess I'm not riding Bungo. Is that what you're telling me?” Kíli asked, unable to hold back a grin when Bilbo nodded emphatically.  
  
“All right, then. Only... do you need a saddle? I don't want to...” the dwarf trailed off at the pony's affronted glare, holding up his hands in surrender when Bilbo nipped his sleeve. “Okay, okay, no saddle. I suppose you're hardly going to throw me off if something startles you. But, you know, I should still saddle Bungo; you might get tired later and we can't leave his tack behind.”  
  
Bilbo seemed insulted by the suggestion that he wasn't strong enough to carry Kíli all the way to Erebor and while he waved the archer toward Bungo with a regal sweep of his hoof, his manner was much more aloof when the dwarf returned. But Kíli soon melted away his irritation with an apple from his pockets and another scratch behind the ears.  
  
“You'll always be my favorite pony,” the archer promised and everything was forgiven after that.  
  
When the rest of Thorin's company finally wandered outside, they found Kíli and Bilbo cavorting around the stable yard, dashing and jumping like they'd been riding together all their lives. Even without a saddle, Bilbo was the most comfortable pony that the dwarf had ever ridden and he was grinning widely when they finally skidded to a halt.  
  
Then Kíli swept an imaginary hat off his head and bowed to his companions. The other dwarves had mounted up while he was busy, their expressions ranging from laughter to serious irritation at his antics now.  
  
Although, in truth, that last was mostly Thorin, the dwarf lord taking one look at his nephew's mount and asking, “Where did you get that pony, Kíli? If you've spent all your gold already then we need to have a talk.”  
  
“Of course not, uncle,” the archer protested indignantly. “I wouldn't do that. This is Bilbo.”  
  
“You named your pony Bilbo?” Thorin replied, his tone thick with disapproval. “Speaking of which, where is our burglar? He should have been here already and I will not wait for him; his courage probably broke as soon as he realized that he would have to leave his precious hobbit hole.”  
  
Kíli's uncle was about to continue when Bilbo's teeth snapped shut an inch from his boot, the dwarf lord and the pony getting into a glaring match instead. Their burglar had clearly taken offense at Thorin's comments – indeed, he looked ready to impale the dwarf lord on his horn – and Kíli wasn't sure why the hobbit didn't just shift back. At least not until he looked over at Fíli for assistance and his brother signed, _'Get off him, you idiot'_ in Iglishmêk with a sharp roll of his eyes. However, before the archer could dismount – and honestly, Fíli was never gonna let him hear the end of this – Gandalf intervened.  
  
“Do not worry about our burglar, Thorin. I am sure that Bilbo will catch up with us eventually,” the wizard said, looking at Kíli and his pony with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “The rest of us should ride before the morning grows too late.”  
  
“Yes. We shall ride. Onward to glory and our homeland,” Thorin shouted, wheeling his pony around dramatically. He was the perfect picture of a king, his face shining with the righteous virtue of his cause, and Kíli felt a great swell of admiration in his heart.  
  
Which, of course, was when Bilbo stretched out his neck and nipped the dwarf lord's pony on its rump. Suddenly Thorin was careening down the path, trying to get his mount under control while the rest of his companions quickly galloped after him. Bilbo brought up the rear at a much more leisurely trot, choosing his own path while Kíli giggled madly on his back. The members of Thorin's company would reconvene a few miles down the road and attempt to scrape up a bit of dignity, but the archer would always remember his uncle's startled expression as how their quest began.

 


	3. Art: Bilbo

Unicorn!Bilbo:

 

 

Unicorn!Bilbo out in the wild. Even magic ponies like to eat:

 

 


	4. A Burglar Woos

Most of the dwarves discovered the truth about Kíli's pony only a few days into their journey – it's not like Bilbo tried to hide it – and they took the hobbit's ability to change his form in stride. Sure it was a little weird to hold conversations with a pony but this hardly seemed like dangerous magic and Durin's Folk had produced a few skin-changers of their own in the past.

So Bilbo's companions just shrugged and treated him roughly the same no matter which form he was wearing. Yes and no questions did work best for the pony since only Kíli had any luck interpreting his neighs but Bilbo was Bilbo and most of the dwarves didn't mind his oddity.

All but Thorin, who somehow remained oblivious to their burglar's shifting form. The dwarf lord seemed to think that the hobbit was hiding somewhere whenever he changed into a pony and he could often be heard grumbling about absent burglars. When one of his companions talked to Kíli's mount, Thorin always assumed that they were speaking with his nephew and he would not believe anyone who tried to tell him otherwise. Not without hard proof, which was difficult to come by when the hobbit still refused to go anywhere near the dwarf lord and Gandalf was too amused to join the argument.

Somehow Kíli's uncle also managed to ignore the way that both the hobbit and Kíli's pony trailed after his nephew like lovesick idiots. He didn't seem to notice the adoration or the pining even as the rest of his companions found the whole thing hilarious.

Fíli and Dwalin had created a travel game based on counting Bilbo's sighs and glances and Nori was taking bets on when Thorin would get a clue. Considering how similar the hobbit's two forms looked and acted, the dwarf lord should figure it out eventually and until then the other dwarves were happy to entertain themselves by teasing Kíli mercilessly.

However, no matter how much the archer blushed at his companion's joking, he still allowed Bilbo to curl up with him by the fire; he didn't have the heart to disappoint the hobbit when he was so happy at his side. Indeed, their burglar was happiest in either form when pressed close to Kíli and he wasn't the only one who enjoyed the cuddling.

There was something very comfortable about it, perhaps because Bilbo never asked for more, and the archer was starting to think that he'd found a far more valuable treasure than the gold of Erebor.

Of course, Kíli would have known exactly what he'd found if any of the dwarves had bothered to listen to their wizard; Gandalf had been trying to explain Bilbo's true nature to the company for weeks. The wizard wanted his chance at exposition – he had written a whole speech and everything – but no one would let him speak. Ori was the only one who even cared enough to listen and Bofur or Dori would always interrupt the conversation, reminding Gandalf that it was impolite to gossip behind their burglar's back.

“If it's important, Bilbo is sure to tell us and if it's not important then we don't need to know,” Bofur had said the first time the wizard offered to share the hobbit's secrets and the dwarves' position hadn't softened since.

Truthfully, Bofur couldn't understand why Gandalf kept trying after so many clear refusals and when the wizard stalked off in a huff yet again, the dwarf just shrugged and went back to helping Bombur with the soup. Most of the other dwarves were making camp while Bilbo assisted Kíli and Fíli with the ponies and Thorin stood off to the side and brooded as he was wont to do.

Fíli reappeared at Bombur's elbow just as dinner was completed – that one always did have a nose for food – and he quickly devoured his own portion before grabbing two more bowls. These were for his brother and the hobbit but when Fíli reached them, neither was interested in eating anything.

In fact, Bilbo and Kíli were huddled in the bushes, the archer's eyes wide as he stared at something moving in the darkness, and when Fíli dropped down beside his brother, he felt his own eyes go wide as well. Because an enormous mountain troll was carrying Myrtle and Minty through the trees, their leads dangling where the troll had ripped them free.

“He's stealing our ponies,” Fíli hissed, his hand on Kíli's shoulder. “We have to tell uncle and the others.”

“Don't be silly; we need to find out where it's going,” Bilbo replied, the hobbit's voice far too cheerful for what was happening. Fíli was starting to think that their burglar had no sense of self-preservation, agreeing to face a dragon within five minutes of meeting Thorin probably should have been a sign, and when Bilbo darted after the troll, the dwarves could only follow him.

Or rather, Kíli followed Bilbo and then Fíli followed Kíli because someone had to keep his little brother out of trouble and it clearly wouldn't be their burglar. Honestly, brother wrangling had been a full time job already without Bilbo deciding to charge headfirst into danger and Fíli was going to end up like Thorin at this rate. Half the grey in the dwarf lord's hair was due to his nephews' antics and he didn't even know about their little misunderstanding with the town of Bree.

 _And he's not going to find out about this one either, not if I can help it,_ Fíli thought as he chased after his brother and their burglar. _We went for help immediately as far as uncle is concerned._

Getting help was the only sensible plan of action when faced with a mountain troll; they would need their entire company just to have a chance. _Our company and the wizard,_ Fíli amended when the troll finally reached its camp. Because two more trolls were sitting by a roaring fire and fighting three of the creatures would be nigh impossible.

Even Kíli hesitated at the sight – and this was Kíli – but Bilbo didn't seem to realize how much danger they were in. He just smiled like he was going to a garden party and started walking forward brazenly.

“What are you doing?” Kíli whispered, grabbing the hobbit before he could step into the light. “They'll kill you!”

“No they won't,” Bilbo replied with a fond glance at the archer. “Orcs or wargs might have been a problem but mountain trolls could never be a match for me.”

“Have you gone mad? Bilbo, we know you're not a burglar despite what uncle thinks. You don't have to prove yourself so recklessly,” Kíli protested again, honestly worried that the hobbit had gotten sunstroke because he could not seriously believe such lunacy. “I care about you too much to watch you die like this.”

“You are adorable and very sweet to worry,” the hobbit murmured, going up on his toes to kiss the archer's cheek. This brief touch made Kíli blush, though he wasn't flustered enough to let go of Bilbo's arm. “But I promise I would not try this if I were not certain of the outcome. I may not be a burglar but I am a unicorn and my kind always has a few tricks up our sleeves. So just sit tight, darling; I'll take care of everything.”

He patted Kíli's shoulder as though that ended the conversation, as though the archer would actually stand on the sidelines while Bilbo committed suicide by troll. Indeed, the dwarf had no intention of letting the hobbit walk into that clearing, but Bilbo could move quickly when he wanted to. He shifted into his other form, breaking Kíli's grip and trotting forward fearlessly.

 _Shit, he's going to die. They're going to eat him,_ Kíli cursed as the trolls surrounded Bilbo, their expressions sick with avarice. The thought made Kíli stagger, the idea of losing his hobbit making his heart thump painfully.

The archer hadn't realized how much he cared before this moment. He hadn't realized that Bilbo had gotten so deep beneath his skin. But Kíli might actually love him and the dwarf couldn't lose the only person who had ever made him feel like this.

However, before Kíli could run to the rescue, one of the trolls tried to grab Bilbo and his horn suddenly began to glow. That ivory spiral grew brighter and brighter, forcing the mountain trolls back with cries of agony. They tried to run but it was already too late, their skin sizzling when the light from Bilbo's horn washed over them. Kíli squinted against the brightness as the monsters writhed and twisted, their bodies slowly turning to stone until they were frozen where they stood.

Only then did Bilbo's horn stop glowing, the hobbit shifting back and smiling at the dwarves triumphantly. “I told you I could take them.”

“That was amazing,” Kíli exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement any longer. He ran forward, grabbing Bilbo in a hug and spinning him around. “How did you do that?”

“I told you, I'm a unicorn not a skin-changer. We have a different sort of magic,” the hobbit explained with a smirk. Despite his words, fighting three mountain trolls at once had been a little risky, but Kíli's reaction was well worth the danger he had faced.

The dwarf was looking at Bilbo like he had hung the moon and his arms were warm and strong around the hobbit’s waist. Indeed, Bilbo could have happily stayed right here forever, Kíli's spirit shining brightly in his mind. That soul was the dwarf's true beauty and the hobbit wanted to wrap his innocence around his heart to keep the world at bay. Kíli was something special, truly special, and Bilbo counted himself lucky that no other unicorn had found the archer first.

So the hobbit returned the hug, tucking his head beneath Kíli's chin with a contented sigh. Erebor could hang as far as Bilbo was concerned; this was the only place that he wished to be.

Of course, Kíli and Bilbo weren't actually alone and the hobbit could only ignore Fíli's presence for so long. Now, he actually liked the blond dwarf – while he was far from chaste, he adored his brother and his kind heart made his touch much less painful than his uncle's when he accidentally brushed Bilbo's skin.

However, after Fíli cleared his throat for the seventh time, the unicorn could cheerfully have run him through right then. Because Kíli pulled away from Bilbo in order to glare at his brother and thus ended the hobbit’s cuddling.

Still, the other dwarf did have a point when he said this wasn’t the time or place for hugging, what with the frozen trolls and all.

So Bilbo helped Kíli free their poor frightened ponies while Fíli searched the surrounding area for loot. As the archer cheerfully explained, mountain trolls had no use for treasure and usually left their victims' possessions strewn about haphazardly. Anyone willing to dig through the rubbish could often find great treasures hidden there. Indeed, Fíli returned about ten minutes later with three swords slung across his shoulders and he offered the shortest to Bilbo with a bow.

“You may not need a weapon, but this is yours by right and I am sure Kíli would sleep easier if he knew that you were armed.”

Neither unicorns nor hobbits usually carried weapons but when Bilbo started to refuse, Kíli gave him a pleading glance and he folded instantly.

 _I suppose a sword might be useful on this journey,_ Bilbo justified to himself as he reached for the blade. His magic was weaker as a hobbit and he needed space to shift. If the worst should happen, a weapon would give him a better chance to fight his way to open ground.

“Of course, these two blades are yours as well,” Fíli continued once Bilbo had settled his new sword on his hip. “But since they’re much too long for you, you should give one to Thorin for his permission and the other to my brother as a courting gift.”

“A what?” Bilbo asked.

 _“Fíli!”_ Kíli hissed, smacking his brother on the arm.

The archer clearly knew what Fíli was implying, but his brother ignored his protests. Instead, Fíli just narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, the hobbit’s shoulders straightening beneath that chilly stare. While he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, Bilbo could tell it was important and he would not let Kíli down.

“You do intend to court my brother, don’t you?” Fíli asked silkily, the softness of his voice doing nothing to hide the steel behind his eyes. “Unlike some dwarves, Kíli is not the type for loveless dalliances and I have never seen my brother smile at anyone the way he grins at you. So if you wish to continue this relationship, you had best be serious; I will not see him abandoned to heartbreak when our quest is through.”

“I’m not going to leave him!” Bilbo protested. “I care about your brother deeply and I intend to remain with him for as long as he allows.”

“Good. Then you need will need these,” Fíli replied, motioning to the swords slung on his back. “Kíli is a prince of Erebor – at least, he will be – and you cannot court him without a proper gift. A masterwork of your own making would be better but, given the circumstances, the spoils of battle will have to do instead. Give one sword to Kíli to prove your worth and one to Thorin so that our uncle will grant his blessing when you ask.”

With that, the dwarf grabbed Kíli's arm and tugged him forward, planting his brother before the unicorn.

“All right, Bilbo. Here’s your chance. If you want him, ask.”

When the hobbit met Kíli's eyes, the archer looked nervous but hopeful and Bilbo should have known exactly what to say. After all, he had been planning some variant of this speech ever since Kíli fell into Bag End. But now that the moment had come, Bilbo’s mind was blank. This was too important to mess up and the hobbit’s thoughts were scattered, his mind still reeling from the sudden shift in mood.

_How exactly did I go from fighting trolls to proposing anyway?_

“If you do not wish to court me, you don’t have to,” Kíli said when Bilbo had been quiet for too long. “Fíli means well, but he can be overbearing sometimes and I won't let him force you into anything.”

The archer seemed sincere – of course he was sincere – but he couldn't entirely hide his disappointment and that spark of dejection broke Bilbo's paralysis.

“No! Kíli, I do! I do. It’s just… before you decide whether or not to accept my courtship, there’s something you should know,” the hobbit stammered, his usual confidence forgotten in the face of Kíli's pain. He had known that they would need to have this conversation but he had not planned to have it with Fíli watching them. Still, Bilbo could hardly ask the other dwarf to leave at this point so he just soldiered on.

“As I told you before, I am a unicorn and while I am also a hobbit, the unicorn wins out on certain things. For example, you know how I don’t let most of your companions touch me?”

“Uh-huh. I assumed you didn’t like them.”

“Well, I admit that I’m not fond of your uncle, but that's not the reason why. Unicorns can only touch people with pure hearts, we’re drawn to them in fact, and that requirement for purity includes the physical.”

“Okay. But what does that have to do with courting me?”

“Well...” Bilbo paused, trying to think of a way to phrase things gracefully.

“He can only touch you because you’re a virgin, little brother,” Fíli explained with a laugh. “And courting usually leads to other things.”

“That is not how I was going to put it,” the hobbit said, glancing over at Fíli with a touch of irritation. “However, despite his bluntness, your brother is essentially correct. I can only touch you because you are chaste in mind and body. We can never lie together and while I would still love you if you slept with someone else, I wouldn't be able to hold you anymore. I can only offer you what I have given you already and that will not change if we are wed.”

“Oh… You really mean that?” Kíli asked, his voice sounding oddly hopeful to Bilbo’s ears.

“Yes?”

“Good. That’s good. Because I don’t want to sleep with anyone. I’ve never wanted to,” the archer said, his smile brilliant as he stepped forward and took the hobbit’s hands. “What we have now is perfect and if you promise to love me and hold me for as long as you are able, that will be more than enough. That's all I’ve ever wanted and I would be honored to accept your courtship now.”

Bilbo had to hug his dwarf then. This was everything that he had hoped for when leaving Hobbiton; this was the kind of love that most unicorns only dreamed of finding in their lives. No wonder Kíli shone so brightly in the hobbit's mind.

“I’m happy for you, little brother,” Fíli said, smiling at the pair indulgently. He patted Kíli on the shoulder, careful not to touch the hobbit by accident, and Bilbo could almost forgive him for interrupting his cuddling again. “Of course, you’re lucky that I plan to have as many kids as possible to keep our mother satisfied.

“Now… before we break the news to uncle, you have to pick a sword. I vote the shorter one.”

While Kíli tested out both swords to see which one fit him better, Fíli tugged Bilbo a few feet away and murmured quietly, “Just so you know; I also buried some treasure in the cavern. Think of it as a wedding present since you waived your right to the Lonely Mountain’s gold. You can pick it up when you come back this way.”

“You want me and Kíli to return to Hobbiton?” Bilbo asked in surprise. He had assumed that he would be staying with the archer and his kin. “What about your family?”

“Trust me. I know my brother and Kíli will be much happier with you than as a prince of Erebor,” Fíli told him. “And I never said you couldn't visit. Hell, I plan to take full advantage of your hospitality whenever I need a break from uncle's moods.”

“All right,” Bilbo chuckled. “If your brother agrees then we'll go back to the Shire and you can hide from Thorin anytime you want.”

“Glad to hear it,” Fíli said, slapping Bilbo on the shoulder. “All right, little brother, which one will it be?”

“The shorter one, of course. I'm not an idiot,” Kíli replied, slinging the shorter blade across his back. Then the trio collected their ponies and led them back to camp, the other dwarves greeting their arrival with a mix of worry and relief.

“Where in Mahal's name have you been?” Thorin shouted, rushing over to his nephews.

“Bilbo killed some mountain trolls and wants to court my brother,” Fíli answered breezily, Kíli nodding sheepishly when his uncle looked at him.

The dwarf lord opened his mouth, probably to say something full of scathing disapproval given the expression on his face. But before he could, Bilbo grabbed the second blade from Fíli and shoved it in Thorin's hands.

“I'm not entirely sure how this works amongst your people,” the hobbit said rapidly. “Things are a lot simpler in Hobbiton. But please take this weapon as a measure of my love for your nephew and grant my suit your blessing; I truly wish to spend my life with him.”

“He does, uncle,” Kíli added as he pulled his own sword from its sheath. “This was our burglar's courting gift to me. He won it by right of battle with our enemies.”

“That... That is a fine blade,” Thorin said slowly, distracted from his disapproval by the weapon's quality. No smith could have missed the skill with which Kíli's blade was forged and the dwarf lord drew his own sword with shaking hands. He took three swings and then sheathed the blade again.

“All right. You have my blessing,” the dwarf said. “You might as well go kiss your bride.”

Bilbo didn't actually kiss Kíli, but he did go over and wrap an arm around his waist. The hobbit leaned up and whispered, “That went better than I expected. I thought your uncle hated me.”

“He does. But if he refused your courtship, he wouldn't get to keep the sword,” Fíli explained, walking up next to his brother and ruffling his hair. “There's no way uncle would let a weapon like that slip away.”

“Don't say that; it makes me feel like I bought him,” Bilbo groaned in protest. “Kíli is worth far more than a sword to me.”

“I know that, love. Don't worry,” Kíli murmured, pressing a kiss to the hobbit's cheek. “But there are conventions to these things and mother would have been furious if we didn't follow them. Besides, Thorin may be gruff but he does care about us. You should have seen him when one of the clanless started sniffing around Fíli a few years ago. That poor bastard is probably still running now.”

“I remember that. Uncle can be a bit too protective sometimes; I didn't even like the guy,” Fíli chuckled. “But Kíli's right; you shouldn't judge Thorin too harshly. He accepted the sword because it's a masterwork and my brother showed you favor but that doesn't mean he wouldn't slit your throat if you hurt him later on. Then it would be an honor killing and he could still wield your blade with pride.”

“I don't think I'll ever understand dwarves entirely,” Bilbo said, shaking his head in bemusement. However, as long as Kíli wasn't hurt by his uncle's actions then the hobbit saw no need to get offended by Thorin's skewed priorities. “But I suppose they are lovely swords if you like that sort of thing.”

This was, in fact, quite an understatement on Bilbo's part, although the burglar did not discover the true worth of his bounty until Thorin's company reached Rivendell. For when the dwarves sat down at Lord Elrond's table, the elf recognized the swords that Kíli and Thorin carried on their backs. Elrond named them Orcrist and Glamdring, two fabled blades of old, and his announcement was met with sighs of jealousy from elves and dwarves alike.

Bilbo’s own sword carried no such legacy but the hobbit didn’t mind. He was a unicorn not a warrior; his first instinct was to heal not slaughter and he was okay with that. Truthfully, Bilbo didn't care about winning gold or glory, all he cared about was Kíli, and judging by Thorin's reaction to Elrond's statement, no one would able to challenge his courtship now.


	5. A Romance Grows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but fluffy. So much fluff.

Bilbo's days in Rivendell were lovely. The unicorn had always liked elves; most of them were so flighty that physical desire barely registered and even those that were married often felt like virgins to his kind. Indeed, this wasn't the first time Bilbo had visited Elrond and the elf lord's hospitality was just as good as he remembered, advice and food offered in equal measure to help Thorin's company.  
  
This left Bilbo free to spend all his time with Kíli and that's exactly what he did. They explored Rivendell together, marveling over the armory and begging morsels from the kitchens, the archer's dimples as effective on elves as they were on unicorns.  
  
When they grew tired of exploration, the couple switched to cuddling and they spent hours in each other's arms. Kíli and Bilbo curled up together in nooks and crannies, holding murmured conversations as they talked over everything that they had been afraid to say before.  
  
“I really think that I might love you,” Kíli admitted shyly a few days into their stay. “It seems so fast but I can't imagine life without you now.”  
  
“The feeling is mutual, darling,” Bilbo promised, pressing a kiss to the archer's hair. “I love you with all my heart and while we haven't known each other long, unicorns fall quickly. We can tell when we meet the right person and I knew that you were special as soon as you tumbled through my door. I had never seen a heart like yours before.”  
  
“Well, I had never seen such a lovely smile. Honestly, Bilbo, I'm the lucky one. I never thought I would find anyone who could make me feel this way and I'm so glad that Gandalf chose you as our burglar.”  
  
“Don't say that too loudly,” the hobbit joked. “Our wizard is smug enough already about enticing me to join your uncle's company. As though I would have followed any old virgin all the way to Erebor.”  
  
“Did you really join this quest for me?” Kíli wondered. “I mean, you aren't a burglar. Everyone knows that. I think uncle even knows that; he's just glad you work for free. So why would you leave such a lovely home for me when I don't have anything to offer? I won't have anything until we reclaim Erebor.”  
  
“I don't care about your family's treasure. All I want is you,” Bilbo told him fiercely. “You're my home now, Kíli, and winning your love was well worth the risk to me. Besides, it's not as though I'll never see Hobbiton again. Bag End will still be waiting when our quest is done and even if you prefer to live in Erebor, my relatives would never forgive me if I just disappeared. Weddings are serious business in the Shire and they've been planning mine for years.”  
  
“I... Would you mind if we went back?” Kíli asked uncertainly. “If we made our life in Hobbiton? I want to help reclaim my family's homeland, I do, but I can't imagine living there. I'm not a real prince, not like Fíli. I'm just Kíli – I'm clumsy and reckless and rubbish at diplomacy.”  
  
“Of course we can live in Hobbiton,” Bilbo replied, hugging the dwarf more tightly. “As far as I'm concerned, Bag End is yours as much as mine and I think we'll both be happier with your uncle on the far side of the world. Although, I should warn you, hobbits can be awful gossips and I did promise your brother that he could visit anytime.”  
  
“Don't worry, I can deal with Fíli,” the archer chuckled. “And I don't even mind the whispers. I just can't deal with politics.”  
  
“Then it's a promise. When this quest is over, we'll return to Hobbiton. Just remind me to grab our wedding present on the way.”  
  
“Wedding present? What wedding present? We're not even married yet.”  
  
“It's from your brother. He was sure that we'd go back to the Shire and it seems he knows you well. But it's a surprise so you'll have to wait until we get there. Think of it as an incentive to keep your reckless streak in check.”  
  
“Oh, come on, Bilbo. Just tell me.” Kíli reached out and tickled the hobbit's elbow, Bilbo twitching away with a started laugh.  
  
“That's cheating, love.”  
  
“I had an older brother. Everything's fair game,” the dwarf retorted with a mischievous grin. However, before he could tickle Bilbo again, the hobbit poked him in the stomach, taking advantage of Kíli's flinch to slip out of his arms.  
  
“Well, in that case...” Bilbo said with a grin. “You've got to catch me first.”  
  
The hobbit led Kíli on a merry chase through the halls of Rivendell, the pair almost bowling over several groups of elves along the way. One of these included Elrond, their host on his way to meet with Thorin and Gandalf to discuss their strategy.  
  
“Excuse me! Sorry! Coming through!” Bilbo called out with a laugh, dodging around the elf lord’s steward so that Kíli had to leap a table or slam right into him. The dwarf gave it his best shot but he stumbled on the landing and only the elf’s graceful side-step averted disaster then and there. Not that Kíli realized who he’d almost hip-checked, too focused on catching Bilbo to care about the steward’s spluttering.  
  
Thankfully, Elrond was too amused to be insulted by their antics and watched the pair run off with an indulgent grin. “Take a left please; I just cleaned the library.”  
  
Bilbo obliged the elf lord, leading Kíli through the outer doors and into the meadow where the rest of Thorin's company was lazing in the sun. If anyone asked, the dwarves would claim to be sharpening their weapons, but Fíli hadn't touched his blade in at least half an hour and Balin's snores were barely muffled by his beard.  
  
Kíli tackled Bilbo right into the center of the circle, the two of them tumbling down laughing in the grass. The hobbit dumped a handful of leaves in the archer's hair, Kíli letting out an awkward shriek before retaliating with a double handful of his own.  
  
“Get him, little brother,” Fíli cheered from the sidelines. “Make our family proud.”  
  
He ducked when Kíli chucked a clump of dirt at his head, the missile landing in Nori's lap instead. Ori burst out laughing at his brother's shocked expression, only to have a fistful of grass ground into his hair. Dori came to Ori’s defense while the younger dwarf took this excuse to tackle Dwalin into Balin and the situation devolved quickly after that. Soon most of the company was involved in an all out war, throwing grass and insults while Kíli and Bilbo just lay in the middle of the chaos and laughed until they cried  
  
When the battle finally ended, only Fíli had somehow come through unscathed and the group was quite a sight as the dwarves walked back to their rooms. Dwalin led the column, his head held high and his expression daring a single elf to comment on the grass lodged in his beard.  
  
None of the elves were foolish enough to take the warrior’s challenge, though a score of stifled giggles followed in his wake. Of course, quite a few of those giggles actually belonged to Kíli, the archer walking at the back of the line with Bilbo and completely failing to keep his mirth in check. Indeed, Kíli barely made it to the room that he shared with his brother and his hobbit before he fell to his knees and cackled helplessly.  
  
“Did you see their faces?” the archer gasped between guffaws. “Only Balin could look so dignified with flowers in his hair.”  
  
“I'll give you that one, love,” Bilbo chuckled as he knelt down by Kíli. “Though you're hardly one to talk. I swear you've got half the meadow in your bangs right now. If you don't comb this out soon then you're going to tangle like a thicket. Do you have a brush that I can use?”  
  
The dwarf flushed red at the question, his laughter cutting off so abruptly that Bilbo worried he'd crossed a line by accident. But Kíli's embarrassment was tinged with joy not anger and moments later he was pulling the hobbit to his feet. He settled Bilbo on the edge of his bed and sat down in front of him, handing up a comb with a charmingly shy grin.  
  
That smile made the burglar a little breathless – how could one person be so adorable? – but he was hardly going to pass up the chance to touch the archer's hair. It was as soft as down beneath his fingers, if a little full of knots and leaves right now.  
  
So the hobbit started at the bottom and began to untangle Kíli's tresses, the dwarf slowly turning to mush beneath his hands. He let out a low groan when Bilbo stroked the comb across his scalp, a rumbling purr from deep inside his chest. Indeed, Kíli was half asleep by the time the hobbit had worked the knots out of his hair and the archer was just too cute to move. So Bilbo kept brushing instead, only waking Kíli when Fíli came to tell them that dinner had been served.  
  
The other dwarves fell silent as the pair walked into the hall, looking at them with a mixture of approval and surprise that the archer didn't understand. Not until he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and his gaze landed on the intricate braiding in his hair.  
  
Bilbo must have done it while he was dozing and Kíli quickly decided that these braids were never coming out. For the hobbit had woven a delicate web through the archer's hair, protecting his vision without making him feel constricted as his mother’s braids had often done.  
  
Honestly, Kíli couldn't help preening as he took the hobbit's arm – his companions _wished_ they had a partner who could braid as fine as Bilbo – and there was a spring in his step that had not been there before. Because these braids were perfect and Kíli loved them. He loved _Bilbo_ and while he had known that the hobbit loved him in return, this was proof to everyone just how much he was adored.  
  
Not that Bilbo had any idea why his braids had made the dwarf so happy and he resolved to ask Fíli for an explanation as soon as he had the chance. Although, in truth, the reason didn't matter since the hobbit would brush Kíli's hair every night and gladly if it made him glow like that. All their days should be as lovely as this last week had been.  
  
Unfortunately, Rivendell would never be the home that Thorin dreamed of and once Elrond was able to decipher the message of the moon runes, the company moved on.

 


	6. A Mountain Shakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot. Actual plot. Who knew?

After two weeks of rest and relaxation, the dwarves saddled their ponies and set out from Rivendell, their packs full near to bursting with Elrond’s generosity. They were well supplied for the next phase of their journey and they had reason to thank the elf lord when their path began to climb.  
  
The track across the Misty Mountains was long and arduous, low rolling foothills quickly giving way to rocky crags. In many places, Thorin’s company faced a sheer cliff on one side and a seemingly endless drop on the other, the trail itself so steep that the dwarves had to lead their ponies instead of riding them. Only Bilbo’s hooves were able to get any traction with a rider so Thorin often sent Kíli ahead to scout out the best path. Anything that the unicorn couldn’t handle would be impossible for their ponies and while the dwarf lord still hadn’t realized that the archer called his mount Bilbo for a reason, Glamdring had made him more accepting of their burglar’s disappearances.  
  
Thus, with Bilbo’s help, the company made better time than they’d expected and morale would have been high if not for the never-ending rain. It rained in the morning and it rained in the evening; it rained in the afternoon and while the dwarves were eating. Cold water stiffened their fingers and dripped down their necks before turning the path to a pit of mud beneath their boots.  
  
Bilbo spent most of his time as a unicorn because wet mane was less unpleasant than wet clothing, only shifting back when Kíli needed help brushing the mud out of his hair. The screaming wind tangled the archer’s locks quite badly despite the hobbit's braiding and most of their companions weren't much better off.  
  
The dwarves spent hours trying to comb out their beards and dry their clothes each evening, huddling together for warmth as best they could. Bilbo’s ambient magic made their scrapes and bruises heal much faster, though not as fast as if he’d touched them with his horn, but the unicorn counted himself quite lucky that no one had fallen ill. Sickness was far more difficult to heal than injury and Bilbo would need his strength later if the confrontation with Smaug did not go as he planned.  
  
_Which is something I do not want to think about._ On an even playing field, a unicorn was no match for a dragon and Bilbo’s scheme rested heavily on the truth of half-remembered stories about his family history.  
  
However, there was little point in fretting until Thorin’s company reached the Lonely Mountain – the hobbit was either right or he was wrong. So Bilbo focused on the present instead, determined to live each day to the fullest just in case these were his last. Honestly, there was no guarantee that the dwarves would even reach their destination and the unicorn would feel rather silly if he was so busy worrying about Smaug that he let a rock slide kill him now.  
  
Just this afternoon, the company had been forced to wait out a stone giant’s family squabble before continuing their journey and any one of those giants could have squashed the hobbit flat. If he and Kíli hadn’t been paying attention, the dwarves would have walked right into the battle and who knew if they would have walked back out again?  
  
Thorin hadn’t been happy about the delay but Bilbo was firmly in agreement with his great-uncle Faustus who had justified his late arrivals with a grumpy “Better slow than dead.” The company made bad time today but at least they were still breathing and they had found a large cave in which to spend the night. It was even big enough to hold their ponies so that the only person out in the rain was Gandalf; he had wandered off to do something wizardly after dinner and had not yet returned.  
  
But if anyone could take care of himself, it was Gandalf, and the unicorn refused to worry about that old meddler. So Bilbo just lay down next to Kíli, wrapping an arm around the archer’s waist before drifting off to sleep.  
  
It was near midnight when the floor of the cave suddenly began to shudder. A low rumbling at first, the sound grew louder and louder until Thorin jerked upright with a start. But the dwarf lord had barely shouted out a warning when the stone suddenly disappeared beneath his feet.  
  
The cave floor split open to reveal a mass of goblins who swarmed over the company and their ponies in an endless tide. Bilbo had slept through Thorin's warning, but the hobbit woke when one of the goblins grabbed him, the creature's touch like fire on his skin. It was all the unicorn could do to keep from vomiting as he was shoved forward with the others, the miasma of evil almost too much for him to take. He couldn't even think of shifting at first and once his hands were bound, it was too late. Changing forms would only make the ropes draw tighter and Bilbo could not risk revealing his true nature until he was free to fight. Not when goblins had a taste for the flesh of unicorns.  
  
So the hobbit huddled next to Kíli, his dwarf's bright innocence helping to hold the dark at bay as the goblins brought Thorin and his companions to their king. This enormous goblin greeted his captives by name and then launched into a ridiculously long welcome speech; truthfully, he sounded like the old drunk Gaffer at a party and Bilbo would have ignored his words even without the headache that was pounding through his skull.  
  
However, the goblin king's verbosity had its uses. His speech gave the unicorn time to recover, the stabbing pain behind his eyes lessening slightly as he got used to it. The goblins' presence was still painful but soon Bilbo could think again and thus he could plan as well.  
  
First he needed to free himself and his companions so that the dwarves could grab their weapons while the goblins were distracted; they would need to be armed in order to escape. So Bilbo tugged on Kíli's sleeve, tilting his head to the left when the archer glanced at him. Thankfully his dwarf understood his meaning and the pair slowly shuffled over to Fíli, ducking behind their companions whenever a goblin glanced their way.  
  
“Tell me you have a knife still hidden,” the hobbit whispered once they had reached Fíli. The dwarf had shown Bilbo his collection of blades during one very boring portion of their journey and if anyone had managed to hide a weapon from the goblins, the unicorn was sure it would be him. Indeed, Bilbo was right because Fíli met his question with a wicked grin.  
  
“Top of my boot,” the dwarf murmured. His hands were tied behind his back so he couldn't reach the knife himself but the hobbit was able to pull it out with Kíli's help.  
  
Together Kíli and Bilbo managed to cut Fíli's bonds and then the dwarf returned the favor, the unicorn breathing a sigh of relief as the ropes fell from his wrists. Fíli pulled out another tiny knife – this one hidden in his earring – and gave it to his brother, the two dwarves splitting up to free the rest of their company. A ripple of awareness moved through the dwarves as their bonds were severed, Fíli and Kíli telling the others to get ready; they would attack on Bilbo's shout.  
  
Which would have to be soon because whatever Thorin had just said to the goblin king made the monster scream with rage.  
  
Their leader really wasn't the most tactful fellow – a marvel of diplomacy, that was Thorin Oakenshield. But Bilbo didn't love Kíli for his relatives, now did he? The hobbit loved Kíli for Kíli and he was quite capable of protecting his beloved on his own.  
  
Or, at least, with a little help from his companions and Bilbo took a deep breath before shouting, “Attack,” as loudly as he could. The dwarves attacked the goblins en masse, taking their captors by surprise and clearing a space for the unicorn to change. Bilbo shifted as soon as he was able and the light from his horn sent the goblins reeling back in shock. He charged forward to press the advantage, striking out with his hooves while the dwarves scrambled for their weapons and the goblin king screamed insults at them all.  
  
Thorin's company fought fiercely, Bilbo's light growing brighter with every goblin killed. Or wait, no, it was _Gandalf_ , the wizard's staff shining like a star as he burst into the cavern and called for his companions to take arms.  
  
_Which, you know, we're already doing,_ the unicorn thought with some annoyance. _Did Gandalf think that we were just sitting around waiting to be rescued like bushy-bearded damsels in distress?_  
  
Still, Bilbo couldn't deny that the wizard's help was useful. Indeed, the goblin king was so shocked by his arrival that he fell backwards off the platform, his expression stupefied and his arms windmilling frantically. Fíli and Kíli ran into the gap that his fall had created while Bilbo and the others followed closely on the princes' heels. Thorin's company couldn't hope to fight the goblins off forever – though Thorin himself had looked prepared to try – but if they could reach the surface then they might have a chance.  
  
So the unicorn let his light fade, saving his strength for the race that was upon them now. Bilbo and his companions were fleeing for their lives, sharp drops and hordes of goblins facing them at every turn.  
  
_Blast,_ the hobbit cursed when one of his hooves broke through the wooden slats beneath him, the unicorn barely faltering in his dash across the swaying bridge. Then Kíli stumbled, catching himself on Bilbo's shoulder even as Dwalin urged them on.  
  
This goblin architecture would never have passed muster in the Shire; it was all fraying ropes and swinging structures, treacherous footing as far as the eye could see. On open ground, the unicorn would have easily outrun their enemies but the goblins had the advantage in the mountain and perhaps this was just as well. Given the choice between saving Kíli or saving his companions, Bilbo would choose the archer but Kíli would never forgive him if he left the rest behind.  
  
Which meant that Thorin's company must live or die together and at the moment dying seemed the more likely course. However, the unicorn had fought off wolves and orcs during the Fell Winter; he refused to be slain by goblins with his beloved at his side.  
  
Of course, determination couldn't stop the dwarves from being cornered when the goblin king suddenly reappeared before them, his massive bulk blocking the path ahead. Bilbo skidded to a halt, holding off the great goblin with his horn while Fíli and Kíli looked for another route. But they were trapped on another of those flimsy bridges with more enemies coming up behind them rapidly.  
  
“Fools!” the goblin king roared. “You thought that you could run from me! I will be roasting dwarves for breakfast and have unicorn kebabs for supper afterward!”  
  
“No one's eating Bilbo!” Kíli shouted back, running forward and ducking under the creature's waving arms. The goblin king didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his culinary fantasies to acknowledge one puny dwarf's attack.  
  
His arrogance was his downfall. Kíli's blade bit deep, the goblin's triumphant sing-song ending on a squawk of pain. Then the unicorn leaped forward, rearing back on his hind legs and striking the creature with his hooves. The Great Goblin stumbled backward, Kíli's sword pulling free with a wet squelch as the goblin fell again.  
  
“I'll get youuu....”  
  
His voice faded into the depths of the mountain, dwarves and goblins alike standing frozen until he'd disappeared. Kíli hadn't actually solved their problem – Thorin's company was still surrounded – but Bilbo had a desperate urge to hug him anyway. No one else had ever defended the unicorn like that.  
  
Before the goblins could recover from their leader's sudden death, the bridge beneath Bilbo's hooves started shaking, tattered ropes unable to take the weight of thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and one small unicorn. The hobbit shifted back but it was too late; the bridge supports snapped with sharp crack and Thorin's company fell into the deeps.  
  
All they could do was hold on to each other, trying not to lose their balance as the bridge slid down the cavern wall. Most of the dwarves were shouting curses, Thorin's voice rising in an outraged screech above the rest.  
  
Only Gandalf and Bilbo kept their silence. The hobbit grabbed onto Kíli even as the dwarf reached back for him, the pair holding each other tightly as they fell. Bilbo wanted to be close in case the archer was injured when they landed and there was comfort in the feeling of Kíli in his arms. His beloved fit there perfectly despite the difference in their heights and if this was to be the unicorn's last moment, there were much worse places he could be.  
  
In contrast, Gandalf just seemed indifferent to their peril, pulling a pipe out of his robes and smoking calmly even though hot ash should have been spilling everywhere. A waste of magic that, or perhaps the wizard simply knew something the rest of them did not.  
  
For when Thorin's company finally crashed to a halt in a cloud of shattered timber, no one was badly hurt at all. Just a few bumps and bruises that Bilbo healed easily. The unicorn didn't even have to think about it, his ambient magic reaching out to soothe their injuries. He helped Kíli to his feet and climbed free of the wreckage before looking back to see what had stopped their fall.  
  
“I should've known,” Bilbo chuckled to himself when he saw that the goblin king had saved his enemies. The dwarves had landed directly on his body in a wild stroke of luck and the unicorn was starting to think that the Valar must truly have a soft spot for Thorin's company.  
  
_Or maybe they just like to see us struggle,_ he corrected, looking up to see a massive swarm of goblins pouring down the cavern walls. _Definitely time to run again._  
  
So that's exactly what Bilbo did. That's what they all did. Pounding across the stone on feet and hooves, Kíli's fingers tangled tightly in the hobbit's mane. The unicorn was right on Gandalf's heels as the wizard led them toward the surface and he gave a little skip of joy when he finally felt the sun upon his face. Bilbo had spent quite enough time underground; he wanted weeks of sunshine and wide open meadows after this.  
  
Of course, what the unicorn got was sparse pine forest and rocks beneath his feet, but even that was gorgeous to his eyes. Gorgeous and wonderfully free of goblins; for their pursuers were unable to follow them while daylight lingered on the mountainside.  
  
Gandalf kept running until the tunnel entrance was out of sight and then he stopped, counting heads to check that no one had been left behind.  
  
“...Ori, Bofur, Nori and Dori. It seems everyone is here so we should be moving on. These hills will be crawling with goblins once the sun goes down.”  
  
“What are you talking about? I do not see Bilbo,” Thorin replied, stopping the wizard short. “He is Kíli's fiancé and while I may not like him; I will not leave him in the hands of goblins. That would be dishonorable.”  
  
“We need to leave, uncle. And Bilbo is right there,” Fíli said, waving at the unicorn while the rest of his companions stared at their leader in disbelief. Thorin had to be the most oblivious person in the world if he hadn't noticed their burglar's magic yet. It's not like the other ponies had survived their capture and Bilbo had shifted in plain view more than once.  
  
_How dense can one dwarf be?_ the hobbit wondered as Thorin looked around the clearing. _Though at least he doesn't actually want me dead. I can deal with open dislike as long as he doesn't try to stab me in the back._  
  
“I do not see Master Baggins," the dwarf lord growled after a moment. “If this is a joke, nephew, it is in poor taste.”  
  
“It's not a joke, uncle. Bilbo is a unicorn," Kíli protested earnestly. However, the dwarf lord just scoffed harshly, pinning his nephew with a judgmental glare. Stronger warriors than Kíli had broken beneath that stare but the archer was used to Thorin's regal disappointment face so he simply dismounted with a sigh.  
  
“You had better show him," he said, patting Bilbo on the neck. “We'll never get this bunch moving otherwise."  
  
Kíli was probably right; while the unicorn had enjoyed messing with Thorin's mind, the time for jokes had passed. So Bilbo shifted back into a hobbit, smoothing down his waistcoat before meeting the dwarf lord's eyes. The hobbit expected Thorin to show some surprise at his transformation – or at least to change expression – but he did nothing of the sort.  
  
“There you are,” the dwarf lord said brusquely, taking Bilbo's sudden shift in stride. “Try to keep up next time; you've delayed us needlessly.”  
  
“Uh... what? I was _here_.”  
  
“You were not,” Thorin retorted while Bilbo stammered helplessly. “Unless you were hiding behind my nephew's pony; where _did_ your mount just disappear to, Kíli? We could have used a horse.”  
  
“I... You... Are you _blind_?” the archer asked. He looked over at Bilbo for assistance, but the hobbit just met his eyes with a baffled shrug. Thorin seemed to be serious and if shifting hadn't proved his true nature to the dwarf lord, he didn't know what else to do.  
  
“Never mind,” Thorin continued when his companions failed to answer, the other dwarves too busy gaping to speak coherently. “We can discuss your duties later, nephew, including the proper treatment of a mount. But first we must seek shelter; we will not be able to fight off the goblins if they find us in the night.”  
  
“A wonderful idea!” Gandalf agreed, his voice pitched loud enough to cover both Fíli's frustrated, “That's what I was _saying!_ ” and Nori's quiet, “None of us will ever win this bet.”  
  
“In fact, I know a guy,” the wizard added cheerfully. “Beorn isn't much for visitors but he hates dwarves only half as much as goblins and he lives quite close as eagles fly.”  
  
“I don't find that very comforting,” Dori muttered to his brother and overhearing him, Bilbo quite agreed. He might not be a dwarf but he had a vested interest in keeping his companions alive and bursting uninvited into this Beorn's house was likely to get them killed instead.  
  
“And what's all this nonsense about eagles? We're stuck on foot without our ponies and those cliffs will take hours to hike down.”  
  
Instead of answering Bofur's question, Gandalf just smiled – the smug all-knowing grin that made wizards so annoying – and pointed to the sky just as the sound of beating wings filled the air. These eagles had good timing, Bilbo had to give them that, though the hobbit couldn't imagine what Gandalf had promised for their help. In his experience, most birds were far too proud to be ridden unless paid extremely well.  
  
However, these eagles lifted Gandalf from the ground without an ounce of hesitation and soon the wizard's companions were soaring through the air as well, no matter how much some of them would have preferred to walk instead.  
  
Indeed, Bilbo was not fond of flying and he kept his gaze fixed on his eagle's feathers even as Kíli looked around with open wonder at his side. The archer had no fear of falling; he kept leaning over to see the ground until Bilbo finally wrapped a hand in his coat and tugged him down again.  
  
“Please stop wiggling. You're gonna be the death of me,” the hobbit said, pushing Kíli into the center of their eagle's back. He could see the Misty Mountains when he looked over the dwarf's shoulder and a brief glance down at the ground showed goblins spilling out of the tunnels like red ants from a hive.  
  
“Looks like we got out just in time,” Bilbo murmured before settling against the archer so that they were pressed back to front. Kíli wrapped strong arms around his waist, shifting closer until the hobbit almost managed to forget that they were a mile off the ground. If he had to trust his life to an eagle, this was the way to fly.  
  
“We were lucky. Our quest has been more dangerous than I expected but at least the Valar have been on our side so far. The Valar and one awesome unicorn,” Kíli added, nuzzling Bilbo's neck with a contented sigh.  
  
“I have been pretty fantastic, haven't I?” the hobbit agreed. It was always nice to be appreciated and the honest admiration in his dwarf's voice was the only reward that Bilbo needed for his bravery. The unicorn was incredibly grateful that this gorgeous person returned his love in kind and he would thank the Valar daily once they were back in Hobbiton.  
  
“Yeah, you ha-” Kíli started, his response broken by an enormous yawn.  
  
“You might as well take a nap,” Bilbo told the archer. “I won't sleep while we're flying and at least one of us should be rested when we land. We don't know if this Beorn fellow will be friendly and you'll want a clear head if you need to fight again.”  
  
“All right, if you're sure,” Kíli replied. He yawned again before resting his chin on Bilbo's shoulder and murmuring sleepily, “Goodnight, lansûn. Wake me if you need me.”  
  
“I will, my dear. I will.”

 


	7. An Archer Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the fluff

Beorn's house was wonderful. It was sunshine, flowers, and enormous buzzing bees. A warm fire in the hearth and warm food on the table and Kíli never wished to leave. The dwarf would be content to spend the rest of his life lying in the skin-changer's southern meadow, green grass beneath his head and a herd of ponies running through the field nearby.  
  
Although, what made this moment truly perfect was the hobbit at his side. Bilbo was lying in the grass with his head on Kíli's stomach, purring quietly as the dwarf ran gentle fingers through his hair.  
  
They'd been dozing in the sun for several hours and Kíli's muscles had gone liquid from the heat. He was warm and drowsy, their panicked run through the Misty Mountains a forgotten memory. Indeed, that part of their journey felt like a completely different world from this gorgeous morning and it seemed impossible that only a few days earlier, Kíli had been wet and cold instead.  
  
Of course, Beorn hadn't exactly been happy when a baker's dozen of dwarves suddenly showed up on his doorstep and there had been a moment when the archer was sure that they'd be eaten after all. But the skin-changer had softened upon seeing Bilbo and with a bit of gab from Gandalf, Beorn had been convinced to offer them supplies and shelter for a week. This was a lucky break since Thorin's company sorely needed the assistance; the dwarves had lost all of their food with their ponies in the goblin caverns and no one wanted to rely on hunting when crossing Thranduil's wood.  
  
Indeed, Thorin had a tendency to snarl at the mention of the elf king and from the stories Beorn had told them over dinner, Mirkwood had only grown more unpleasant since Durin's Folk had fled. The skin-changer had spoken of orcs and spiders as well as elven warriors and Kíli had dreamed of death that night.  
  
Over the next few days, every member of the company had repaired their clothes and made their weapons ready for the next phase of their journey. Kíli had fletched new arrows to replace the ones he'd lost or broken while his brother put a shine on his remaining knives; Fíli only had about a dozen now and he was quite bitter over each and every loss. Truthfully, the archer couldn't decide which had been more annoying: listening to his brother complain about chipped daggers or listening to Glóin and Bombur extolling the virtues of their wives.  
  
When Kíli couldn't stand the bickering any longer, he had gone to help Bilbo with his preparations and the hobbit made quick work of his darning with the archer's help. That freed him to assist Beorn with packing and to train with Dwalin when the warrior had the time. While the unicorn didn't need any help fighting with hooves and horn, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with a sword or dagger in his hands.  
  
Still, between Bilbo and Gandalf, Thorin's company should be able to counter any evil magic they found within the forest and the unicorn's trick with light had already proved useful more than once. At least they wouldn't have to worry about running out of torches in the dark.  
  
Still, this was a small comfort considering that the dwarves would be entering Mirkwood with no clear picture of its dangers, Beorn offering only rumor in the place of facts. The skin-changer had never entered the forest himself; he could not leave his home unguarded and relied on other travelers to bring him news of the world. All the dwarves could do was try to plan for everything and know that this might not be enough.  
  
However, none of that seemed very important at the moment. The archer could not think of danger on such a lovely morning; worries about the future had no business here.  
  
Kíli and Bilbo had snuck off from the latest planning session when Thorin and Gandalf had gotten into their thirteenth argument, rightly figuring that nothing useful would be mentioned after that. The hobbit had led Kíli outside before shifting into a unicorn so that the dwarf could ride.  
  
They had danced across the grass, Kíli laughing with delight as Bilbo kicked and spun. The unicorn had raced with Beorn's ponies, singly at first, and then the entire herd had sprinted through the meadow with Bilbo far in front. His speed was unmatched on open ground even with a rider and Kíli didn't think he'd ever be able to travel on a normal horse again. Because the unicorn's hooves barely touched the earth as he flew across the meadow, answering the archer's every shift of balance like they shared one mind.  
  
Indeed, Kíli had been grinning ear to ear when Bilbo finally halted, all worries forgotten in a rush of wild joy. His hair might have been tangled and his cheeks red from the wind, but the ride was more than worth the slight discomfort and the archer knew his hobbit would be happy to fix his braids again.  
  
Bilbo always combed his hair so carefully and the thought of his braiding still made Kíli blush. For the unicorn's exquisite plaiting was proof that someone truly loved him, proof that any dwarf with eyes could see, and whenever Kíli doubted that he could be that lucky, he just had to touch the braids twined through his hair.  
  
So the dwarf had slid off the unicorn's back and thrown himself down into the grass with little thought to his appearance, his grin growing wider when the hobbit shifted and flopped down at his side. Neither of them had spoken because there was nothing to be said; they'd just curled up together to watch the clouds float by. Kíli had known that one of the others would call them back eventually, but he fully intended to enjoy his freedom until that moment came. He would happily take Fíli's teasing about being an eternal virgin for a life of days like this.  
  
 _Speaking of which..._  
  
“Hey, Bilbo,” Kíli murmured, nudging the hobbit until he turned his head.  
  
“Hmm? What is it, love?”  
  
“How do unicorns have children?” the dwarf asked quietly. “I mean, I'm not complaining. I love you and I'm happier than I ever thought to be, but if your mother was a unicorn and your father was a hobbit, how does that even work?”  
  
Kíli had been curious about this for a while, but he'd never asked for fear of insulting Bilbo accidentally. He knew all about touchy subjects – he was a Durin after all – but drowsy warmth had loosened his inhibitions and he truly wished to know more about his beloved's family.  
  
Though, apparently, the dwarf had been worrying for no reason because Bilbo just gave him a wink and answered, “Magically, of course.”  
  
“That's not a real explanation,” Kíli replied, leaning up on his elbows so that he could look the hobbit in the eye. “If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But I'm curious – I want to know everything about your life.”  
  
“I know and I want to tell you,” the hobbit promised, taking Kíli's hand. “But, all joking aside, magic really is the explanation. Unicorns don't breed like other races; once we fall in love, we can choose to have a child and the magic does the rest. I've heard of unicorns that are half-elf, half-dryad, and even half-dragon; the only things that matter are virginity and love.”  
  
“So we could...?”  
  
“Yes, we could have children,” Bilbo finished when Kíli trailed off helplessly. “If you wanted to. Our children would be part unicorn as I am since those gifts run true. My great-great-great-grandmother, Arabelle, was the last pure-blooded unicorn in the Shire. She left a child with Nondan Took before continuing her travels and her descendants have carried the same magic ever since. But I don't know whether our children would also be part dwarf, part hobbit or some mix of the two. Given a choice, I'd have our kids look just like you.”  
  
“I don't even... children?” the archer stammered. He could barely wrap his mind around the idea even as a fierce joy welled in his chest. Kíli had assumed there'd be no children when he'd agreed to marry Bilbo and he'd been all right with that; the dwarf planned to spoil Fíli's children rotten anyway. But the unicorn had just changed that in an instant – he had given Kíli the gift of possibility.  
  
So the dwarf sat up and tackled Bilbo into a hug, burying his face tightly against his beloved's neck. “Thank you. You have no idea... just.... _thank you._ ”  
  
“That's a yes to children then?” the hobbit murmured, returning his embrace.  
  
“Yes, definitely yes,” Kíli said before pulling back again. “I mean... I don't want them right now. I want to go back to Hobbiton and build our life with just the two of us together. But after a few years to get settled, or maybe a couple decades; then, yes, I want a family. I want that more than anything.”  
  
“A decade or two sounds perfect, love,” the hobbit replied, his smile as bright and happy as the archer felt inside. “Once we're home, we can start our family any time we want. Bag End was built for children, you know; it will be good to fill those rooms again. It's always felt a little empty with just my ghosts for company.”  
  
“Well, it won't be empty now,” the dwarf told Bilbo fiercely. “You have me and I have you and neither of us is going to be lonely anymore.”  
  
“I know, love. I know,” the hobbit said. “Have I told you how much I adore you recently?”  
  
“Only half a dozen times this morning,” Kíli replied, letting their conversation take a lighter tone again. “Although... I wouldn't mind hearing those words another dozen more.”  
  
“Good. Because I plan to tell you. I'll tell you that I love you and I adore you and I can't live without you every hour of the day. It's the truth, you know? You've made my life so much better and I wouldn't change a thing about you,” Bilbo told the archer tenderly, pressing a kiss against his brow. “Although, that said, I may have to teach you something about proper bathing once we're home again.”  
  
“You are such a shit,” the dwarf laughed. He flopped back down and took the hobbit with him, rolling them over so that Bilbo was lying in the grass. “You're an arrogant, crazy, brilliant, completely jumped-up excuse for a mountain pony but I love you anyway.”  
  
Kíli and Bilbo were still tangled together giggling when Fíli finally came to get them, the other dwarf shouting out of Beorn's back door.  
  
“Brother! I know you're out there! Grab your hobbit and come eat dinner before there's nothing left.”  
  
“Patience, Fíli! We're coming!” Kíli replied, his head popping from the grass. “Don't let Bombur eat it all.”  
  
The dwarf stood up, brushing dirt and leaves from his tunic in a futile attempt to look presentable while Bilbo did the same. He leaned up to pick a few more twigs from Kíli's bangs before the pair strolled over to Fíli arm in arm.  
  
“Tell me, did Gandalf and Thorin finally come to an agreement?” Bilbo asked the dwarf with a cheeky grin.  
  
“Of course not,” Fíli sighed. “Beorn came back and pulled them off each other before sending them to different bedrooms to cool off. With any luck, we'll have some peace tonight. I never knew there were so many ways to argue about a single road through the forest – give those fools two options and we'd be here until the fall.”  
  
“You're probably right,” Kíli agreed. “Honestly, if they don't stop this then Thranduil is going to hear us coming from a mile off and our only destination will be the elf king's dungeons. If we get captured, I hope that he lets Bilbo share my cell. I'd get lonely otherwise.”  
  
“Well, I certainly hope it doesn't come to that,” the hobbit chuckled. “But if it does, I'll see what I can do. I've never sweet-talked an elf king but I'm sure that I could sway him if I had to; I _am_ a unicorn.”  
  
“Really? I didn't know that? Please, Bilbo, tell me more,” Fíli cried out theatrically, throwing his hands across his chest. “Tell me all about your adventures with my virgin brother here.”  
  
“ _Fíli!_ ” the archer groaned. He let go of Bilbo and tried to swat his brother, but the other dwarf just danced out of the way.  
  
“Come back here,” Kíli shouted, chasing after Fíli as he ducked back into Beorn's house. The hobbit just watched them go, shaking his head in amusement at the dwarves' antics before following them inside at a much more measured pace.

 


	8. A Company Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plot, wrapped in ridiculousness :)

Mirkwood was an awful, awful forest and Bilbo hated it. He had been prepared to give this place the benefit of the doubt in case the rumors were just rumors, but nope: Mirkwood sucked and that was that. Every gnarled branch practically dripped evil as well as far too much icy water and the unicorn had had the beginnings of a headache ever since he walked beneath these trees.  
  
Honesty, everything about this forest just screamed ambush, ambush, ambush and Bilbo wasn't the only member of the company who was watching their surroundings warily. Everyone had been on edge since Gandalf had suddenly decided to abandon their quest with it half done.  
  
The wizard had run off to the north despite Thorin's protests and while he'd claimed a meeting of earth-shattering importance, the unicorn was pretty sure he'd lied. No one smart would trust Gandalf with anything that really mattered, magic staff or no. Maybe the wizard had finally realized that their quest was pretty much impossible, their leader severely overestimated his own awesomeness, and a sensible person would never have agreed to come along.  
  
 _Good thing we're all a little crazy here,_ Bilbo thought, watching Kíli poke a mushroom skeptically. The archer had a habit of wandering toward the edge of the path just to see what lay beyond it but the unicorn was always there to pull him back again.  
  
The hobbit could feel the Elven Road; there was magic to it, a trace of light that held the dark at bay, and it guided his feet when his companions would have strayed. Which, honestly, seemed to be every twenty minutes with Thorin in the lead. The dwarf lord was a poor navigator under the best conditions and Mirkwood's eternal gloom made such things far more difficult. Even Bilbo couldn't have said which direction was north with as much certainty as usual; all he could do was trust to the road beneath his feet.  
  
“Thorin, stop! The path goes right,” the hobbit called out, drawn from his thoughts by the dwarf's wrong turn.  
  
Bilbo ran to the front of the line and grabbed Thorin before he could step off the road and walk into a ditch. Considering how many times they'd had this conversation, it took far too long to convince the dwarf lord that he was right again. Only when the unicorn had dug through the leaves to reveal the gleaming stones of the Elven Road did Thorin finally stop arguing.  
  
“Are you all right, lansûn?” Kíli asked a little later. He was looking at Bilbo with a fair bit of worry and the hobbit realized that he'd been rubbing his hands against his temples as he walked.  
  
“Sorry, Kíli. I'm fine,” he told the archer. “At least as fine as anyone in this blasted place.”  
  
“You don't look fine,” the dwarf replied doubtfully. “This is more than your usual desire to punch my uncle in the face.”  
  
“Guess I can't argue with that, but it's really just a headache,” Bilbo reassured him with a sigh. “This forest is truly evil and it's wearing on my mind, though I have to admit that Thorin is getting on my nerves as well. I don't know why he can't accept that I know which way to go.”  
  
“That's not uncle's style. He hates needing help,” Kíli said. Then he added with a grin, “I don't know why people always think that _I'm_ the daft one in the family; Thorin's the one who walks around in circles all the time.”  
  
“Well, you do have a habit of blurting out every thought inside your head,” the hobbit chuckled. “There is this thing called subtlety.”  
  
“Hey!” Kíli protested.  
  
“Don't worry; I like your honesty. Dwarves in general are refreshingly straightforward compared to most other races,” Bilbo told the archer. “Although, that said, if Thorin doesn't stop arguing with me, he won't have to worry about the elf king. _I'm_ going to kill him long before Thranduil gets involved.”  
  
“You know, you're really violent for a unicorn.”  
  
“Yeah well, you're the one who thought that I should have a sword,” the hobbit retorted. “Can't I just poke him with the blade a little? I'd heal him afterward.”  
  
“Probably not a good idea,” Kíli said with a laugh. “Though I can certainly understand the feeling. I think everyone has wanted to stab him once or twice.”  
  
“That's good to know. I'll fight the impulse best I can,” Bilbo promised, winking at the archer. He meant this statement as a joke but as the company continued its journey through the forest, the hobbit was sorely tempted to break his pledge more than once.  
  
Because Thorin only grew more belligerent with each correction – the unicorn had purified an entire river for him without so much as a thank you – and the other dwarves were starting to fray around the edges after so many long nights in the dark. There was far too much dry tinder to risk anything larger than a cooking fire and the stars did not reach through Mirkwood's canopy.  
  
 _Honestly, the elf king's dungeons are probably more comfortable than this,_ Bilbo griped, rolling over on his side. _Maybe I should just take over Ori's watch. I'm pretty sure he's dozing anyway._  
  
He'd been trying to fall asleep and failing for at least an hour; the hobbit couldn't seem to find a comfortable position and even with Kíli's arm around him, he wasn't quite warm enough. If he hadn't been a unicorn, Bilbo could have joined the pile of dwarves near the embers of their fire, fighting for the coveted spot at Bombur's side. While the dwarf's snores were deafening, he gave off heat like a bonfire and the hobbit could have used a bit of that right now.  
  
But Bilbo couldn't touch the dwarf – he had like seven children – and as much as he loved Kíli, the archer was on the scrawny side. Of course, sleeping as a unicorn would have been warmer for them both, but Mirkwood wasn't like the Misty Mountains. This forest was too evil for his light to pass unnoticed; Bilbo's true form would draw too much attention from the creatures in the dark and goblins weren't the only race with a taste for unicorns.  
  
So the hobbit shivered and sighed and then went still as something rustled in the trees. It wasn't the wind for there had been no wind for hours; this must be something far more dangerous.  
  
 _Wood elves!_ Bilbo realized, fully opening his mind to the forest for the first time in days. He'd been keeping his senses locked down in a futile attempt to reduce his headache and, unfortunately, had also kept himself from feeling the wood elves before they'd surrounded Thorin's company.  
  
These elves didn't shine as bright as their kin in Rivendell – Beorn had called them wild and perhaps he had been right – but the unicorn could still feel them well enough. There must have been two dozen and Bilbo opened his mouth to cry a warning before they could attack.  
  
However, before the hobbit spoke a word, his teeth clacked shut again. Because he'd thought about Thorin's probable reaction to an ambush in the dark; he'd thought about his companions' odds of winning and Kíli's habit of charging forward without any kind of plan. The dwarves could not win this fight and Bilbo would not see them hurt in the attempt.  
  
Besides, according the hobbit's limited knowledge of Mirkwood's geography, Thranduil's palace should be close to the northeastern edge of the forest. Getting captured would hardly even be a detour and the company wouldn't have to worry about being eaten with twenty elves on guard.  
  
So Bilbo closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep until the point of an arrow pressed against his throat and a rough voice growled, “Be still.”  
  
“Damn it, Ori! You were supposed to be on watch,” the hobbit heard Nori mutter as he was lifted to his feet. He winced at the elf's touch – _so_ not a virgin, this one – and winced again when he was shoved bodily into Thorin's back. But Kíli was there in an instant, slipping between the unicorn and his uncle while glaring at the elves protectively.  
  
Not that Thranduil's guards took notice. The Silvan elves knew their business, stripping their captives of weapons and tying them together without reacting to the impressively varied curses that Thorin poured upon their heads. The dwarf lord wasn't crazy enough to fight but he certainly wasn't happy and he made sure their captors felt the sharp edge of his tongue. At least until the captain of the wood elves ordered Thorin gagged, his disgruntled expression sending Bilbo into a fit of giggling. The unicorn probably shouldn't have been so amused by the dwarf's misfortune but he'd been wanting to do exactly that for weeks.  
  
“Save your breath,” the captain ordered when Balin tried to bargain and Dwalin started to add some insults of his own. “You will be taken to the king. You can plead your case to him and if you're lucky, he will be merciful.”  
  
“ _You shouldn't get their hopes up. Thranduil won't listen to his own people let alone a pack of dwarves,_ ” another elf snorted, Bilbo absently translating the words from Sindarin. The unicorn had been bored enough to read an Elvish-to-Westron dictionary a few summers back and he'd always had an ear for languages. Who knew the hobbit would be so grateful for that boredom now?  
  
“ _They could get lucky. He might be drunk,_ ” the captain retorted. “ _And I would prefer them hopeful; desperate prisoners are harder to corral._ ”  
  
Not exactly comforting, that. But it was too late for Bilbo to change his strategy. He would just have to hope for drunken Thranduil, relying on his natural charm and luck to get him through. And if the company somehow missed its deadline, the hobbit would never ever tell Thorin that their capture was partially his fault. Unless the dwarf lord decided to blame Ori for sleeping through his watch. Then the unicorn would bite the fruitcake and confess to everything before grabbing Kíli and running like the dickens back to Hobbiton.  
  
Speaking of running, someone needed to explain a little thing called leg length to Thranduil's guards. The elves moved through the forest at what was probably an easy jog for giants but had Bilbo gasping before they'd gone a league.  
  
“You... are... going... to... kill... me... you... gangly... scarecrows,” the hobbit choked out from his position at the back of the line. “Can... we... please... stop... to... rest?”  
  
His question was met with a chorus of agreement from his companions, even the tallest dwarves having trouble with this pace.  
  
“Du bekâr! Du bekâr! Ihbini!”  
  
“Please! Have... mercy,” Ori pleaded. “Scribes aren't... built... for... this.”  
  
“None of us...... are sprinters. We're endurance runners, damn you.”  
  
“Grrr. Mmph. Hsss. Grrr. Mmph mmph mmph.” Translation: _Take off this fucking gag before I kick you in your shins!_  
  
“My brothers!!!! Avenge me!!!!!!” Dori shouted as he tripped on a tree root. He tumbled head over heels, taking the entire company out one by one. Bilbo landed on the top of the pile, his arms somehow tangled with Kíli's and his feet pointing toward the sky as he hung upside-down.  
  
The hobbit couldn't possibly free himself without assistance so he just looked up – or was it down? – and asked cheerfully, “So... How about a rest?”  
  
“ _Fuck my life. Manwë must hate me,_ ” the elven captain muttered, staring down at the groaning dwarves in disbelief. “ _If these dwarves can't run at a decent pace, we'll be stuck with them for **days.**_ ”  
  
“ _Hey, it's not that bad,_ ” the long-haired blond replied. He and the captain seemed to be best buddies or at least well-matched for snark. “ _This will give us a good excuse to be out of the palace for a while; if I have to hear one more argument about party decorations, I'm going to start drinking just like dad._ ”  
  
“ _Hey, it's not my fault that his favorite silver robes didn't match the drapes,_ ” the captain retorted. “ _But I suppose you're right. Let's take a break until these dwarves are sorted out._ ”  
  
It took almost an hour for the elves to untangle their prisoners since the dwarves were completely uncooperative, dragging their feet and grumbling the entire time. But eventually Thorin's company couldn't delay any longer and the group continued on their way.  
  
At least the elves set a slower pace this time, the captain apparently convinced not to rush back home. Or perhaps she had simply found some kindness for her panting prisoners.  
  
Whatever the reason, the rest of the trip passed quite leisurely. Thranduil's warriors led the hobbit and his companions through the forest for three days and while the dwarves were technically imprisoned, Bilbo found the journey rather nice. It was certainly more pleasant than chasing after Thorin even if elvish travel food was the most awful stuff. Tasteless, boring and completely without texture; this bread was a crime against the culinary arts. But at least the unicorn didn't have to worry about spiders, goblins, or hobbit-eating plants with Thranduil's guards for protection, though he felt a little sorry for the elf who had to fight with a giant pile of dwarvish weapons on his back.  
  
On the morning of the fourth day, their strange group finally reached Thranduil's palace, a trail of slime and spider corpses in their wake. The elf king's hall was built upon an island, its lofty heights surrounded by a rushing river and cradled within a ring of giant trees.  
  
“ _Open the gates. I have prisoners to see the king,_ ” the elven captain called out as she led Thorin's company to the palace entrance – or rather, as her squad dragged the dwarves along. The guards at the gate greeted the captain and her prisoners with open curiosity while doing as she ordered, enormous wooden doors sliding open to let the dwarves pass through.  
  
“Ironwood,” Kíli murmured.  
  
“And bound by steel,” his brother added.  
  
“No hope of breaking out,” the dwarf finished before the nearest elf ordered them to stop talking and the gates swung shut again.  
  
The inside of Thranduil's palace was dim, the only light filtering down from windows high above their heads. Looking around, all Bilbo could think about was how much he missed real sunshine, and he sent a silent prayer to any ancestor who might be listening: _Please let the elf king be the friendly sort. If not to dwarves then at least to unicorns._

 


	9. A Hobbit Bargains

Thranduil was not nearly drunk enough. He was in that awful hazy place between pleasantly tipsy and quite hungover, tipping toward the latter as his body tried to process the alcohol still running through his blood. Too drunk to be dignified and too sober to be happy, the last thing the elf king wanted was a summons to his own throne room with news of prisoners.  
  
“What is the meaning of this?” he groaned, glaring at his son through one red-rimmed eye. Legolas should have known better than to bother him in his chambers and the men of Laketown knew better than to dare his borders without cause. “Just toss them in the dungeons overnight.”  
  
However, Legolas just stared at Thranduil with that stupid face of his – the one that somehow managed to simultaneously announce: “I'm a total idiot” and “You're a bug beneath by shoes.” Today the latter message was coming through much louder but being a condescending bastard was the elf king's specialty and Legolas would need another thousand years of practice to match his father's sneer. Still, the audacity of the attempt won him thirty seconds of attention, Thranduil motioning him to speak with one graceful hand.  
  
“The prisoners are dwarves, father. We found them on the Elven Road during our patrol,” Legolas explained, his expression flickering slightly at the elf king's growl. “They claim to be merchants but I believe that one of them is Thorin Oakenshield.”  
  
“What?!” Thranduil shouted, shooting upright and then falling back with a whimper when his head protested violently.  
  
“That damn dwarf knows better than to trespass on my lands,” the elf king continued once he could think again. “I'm going to imprison him _forever_. Hah! Today is a good day, Legolas. Do you see my silver robes? I need them and a hairbrush – oh, and the emerald crown as well. It's important to look your best when gloating – remember that, son – sarcasm cuts much deeper from a well-dressed foe.”  
  
Thranduil dressed in record time, the thought of Thorin Oakenshield in his power making the elf king forget about the pounding in his head. He'd been waiting for this day for decades, hoping that he would have the chance to sneer at Thorin as Thrór once sneered at him. No one held a grudge like a royal Sindarin.  
  
The elf king didn't leave his chambers until every hair was brushed and shining, his robes gleaming softly and a polished crown upon his brow. He couldn't do anything about the bloodshot eyes but dwarves weren't known for their sharp eyesight and the dramatic lighting in his throne room should hide the worst of it. Indeed, a quick dash of healing cream beneath his eyes to ease the shadows and Thranduil was ready to impress his enemies.  
  
He swept into his throne room with Legolas on his heels and his best disdainful smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that grew even wider when Thranduil saw Thorin amongst the crowd of dwarves, his hands bound and a gag between his teeth.  
  
_Oh, my captain gets a present; yes, she does,_ the elf king thought. Thorin's impotent glare was all the sweeter for the insults that he clearly wished to speak.  
  
So Thranduil sat down on his throne and motioned his guards to bring his captives forward. There were fourteen dwarves in total and the elf briefly considered sending the spares down to the dungeons since their boots were leaving muddy footprints everywhere. But the need to humiliate his enemy in front of an audience was stronger than his irritation over the scuff marks on his floor; several of these dwarves looked to be Thorin's kin and they should be here to witness their golden boy brought low.  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield. Here within my kingdom,” Thranduil murmured superciliously. “I never thought I'd see the day. Did you finally run out of kings to cheat and hearts to break? If you're hoping for mercy, you are out of luck; I plan to make you _beg_ now that you've come crawling home again.”  
  
The dwarf lord's face twisted in anger, his jaw working against the gag inside his mouth. Thranduil would have to remove that cloth eventually so that Thorin could plead for mercy – perhaps threatening his companions with beheading would make him see the light – but not yet. The elf king wanted to enjoy this sight as long as possible.  
  
However, before Thranduil could launch into the rest of his speech – it was nuanced and beautiful, truly a masterwork of subtle disrespect – one of his prisoners dared to interrupt.  
  
“Sorry, my lord,” the smallest dwarf said, moving to stand before the throne. He was just as bedraggled as the rest of them and _barefoot_ , the elf king shuddering to think about the disgusting things he was tracking on the floor. “But I can see where this is going and I don't like it very much. Why don't you leave Thorin to his glaring and talk to me instead?”  
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
“Look, I know I'm probably breaking seventeen royal protocols or something, but if you talk to Thorin this won't end well for anyone. You'll be insulting and he'll be irritating; you'll blame him for the dragon and he'll curse out your parents – if he ever gets that gag off – and then you'll probably throw us in the dungeon until we all die of old age,” the cheeky bastard told him. “And since I'm currently engaged to be married, I'd much prefer to make it home again. Your cells are no place to spend my honeymoon.”  
  
“Why you little...” Thranduil snarled through gritted teeth, the accuracy of this dwarf's predictions making the elf king flush guiltily. “Who do you think you are?”  
  
“Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, at your service,” the dwarf answered with a bow. “I am sure you have good reason to be angry but I have an interest in this company and I am willing to bargain for safe passage through your lands.”  
  
“Really?” Thranduil scoffed, irritation warring with incredulity. “And what, pray tell, do you plan to offer me?”  
  
“A simple trade,” Bilbo said, trying not to reveal his nervousness. “If you give us back our weapons and order your guards to escort us to the border, I will heal those scars upon your face. The ones you hide beneath a glamour and ease with alcohol.”  
  
Thranduil's expression tightened at the hobbit's words and Bilbo found himself holding his breath as he waited for the elf's reply. The unicorn had felt the pain radiating off the elf king as soon as he'd swept into the throne room, a bone deep ache that no healer's salve could touch. He could also feel the remnants of one vicious hangover and he'd come to the most reasonable conclusion based on this evidence.  
  
But even though this was a good deal – a very good deal if Thranduil's injuries were as ancient as they felt – Bilbo couldn't be sure that the elf king would accept. He seemed the type to deny himself comfort out of some twisted sense of pride and the hobbit probably could have made his offer more a bit more diplomatically.  
  
However, the unicorn still had a headache and he'd always had trouble respecting people with unearned authority. So instead of couching his offer in flowery language, Bilbo had chosen to lay all of his cards out on the table and hope for the best.  
  
“You speak of things you should not know,” Thranduil said after a long pause and the lack of anger in his voice made Bilbo sigh with relief. “You speak as though you've seen my wounds and offer miracles. Tell me, Master Baggins, what help a dwarf could give to me. How can you mend injuries such as these?”  
  
Thranduil released his glamour, allowing his prisoners to see the ravage of his face. Pocked and pitted from the heat of dragon fire, his scars ached constantly, and the sight in his left eye had never been the same.  
  
Several of the dwarves gasped, the youngest daring to look at the elf king with something close to pity in their eyes. But the shortest – and rudest – just nodded shortly, as though Thranduil had simply revealed what he'd expected, and a spark of irrational hope ignited in the elf king's mind. Perhaps this Baggins could truly free him from his pain.  
  
“Because I am not a dwarf. I am a hobbit and a unicorn,” Bilbo said plainly and that spark of hope turned into a roaring flame.  
  
“A unicorn?” Thranduil murmured. “I did not know there were any of your kind left within the world.”  
  
“There are more of us than you might think,” the hobbit told him. “Most of those I know are half-breeds and we do not advertise. So do we have a deal? Free us to continue on our journey and I will heal your injuries.”  
  
The elf king was sorely tempted. Being able to live without the glamour was well worth losing his chance to gloat at Thorin. Knowing the dwarf lord's temperament, that chance was bound to come again.  
  
“But what of Smaug?” Thranduil asked instead. “If I release you, you will go to Erebor and you will wake the dragon – do not bother to deny it; there is only one thing that would bring Thorin to these parts. Why should I bargain to heal my scars only to face a fire drake in battle? My first duty is to my people and that your bargain has not changed.”  
  
“I promise, I have no intention of enraging any dragon,” the hobbit replied and this, at least, was true. If the Smaug in Erebor was not the Smaug that Bilbo thought then he might have to prove himself a burglar after all. “My people have several unique ways of dealing with our enemies. Which reminds me, do you know of Dol Guldur?”  
  
“Dol Guldur? That fortress is a cesspit full of orcs and goblins. Were it within my lands, I would have cleansed it long ago.”  
  
“Good. Then you and Smaug should have no problems,” Bilbo said, clapping his hands together. “I assume we have a deal?”  
  
The hobbit hadn't actually answered Thranduil's question, not really, but hopefully even elf kings could be dazzled by some quick-tongued misdirection. Indeed, the Tooks were masters of talking in circles until people gave into their wishes and while Bilbo was nowhere near as skilled as some of his second cousins, his family's knack for blarney served him well this time. Either that or Thranduil was more desperate to rid himself of his injuries than the unicorn had thought because the elf king just gave Bilbo a long look, one that said: “I know what you're playing at and I just don't give a damn.”  
  
“Yes. Master Unicorn. We have a deal,” Thranduil replied. He wasn't sure whether or not he believed this Baggins fellow, but he had a feeling that the unicorn wasn't going to quit talking until he got his way. Besides, if the dwarves did wake up Smaug, the dragon was far more likely to attack Laketown than Mirkwood and there was no love lost between Thranduil and the Master of that place.  
  
_I'd burn Laketown down myself to be free of agony,_ the elf king thought, justifying the decision that he had already made. If Bilbo Baggins could do as promised then Thorin Oakenshield would have a chance to reclaim his kingdom and Thranduil would be there to toast his failure when it came.  
  
If the dwarves were lucky, they might even escape the conflagration; Smaug seemed to enjoy watching his foes flee in terror even more than slaughter. The drake allowed the wounded to escape so that they could spread the story of his power and indeed, it was Smaug's dread fame that had allowed him to slumber undisturbed.  
  
“All right. This will take some time,” Bilbo said, bringing Thranduil from his thoughts. “Old wounds are always more difficult to heal. So if I'm going to do this properly, I'm afraid you really must offer us lodging for the night.”  
  
This unicorn truly was a demanding – and arrogant – little creature, and the elf king was sorely tempted to throw Thorin's company in the dungeons and call it hospitality. But Bilbo might take exception to such ill manners and refuse to help him, or undo his healing if he found out afterward. Besides, Thranduil was no oathbreaker despite what Thorin claimed.  
  
So he ordered Legolas to settle his new friends in the guest wing of the palace – his son would know to choose the lesser guest rooms without being told – and the dwarves trailed after him dutifully.  
  
“Kíli, wait. You stay,” Bilbo said, grabbing the archer's arm before he could leave the room. “This will take most of my strength and I might need a shoulder afterward. Besides, you make me stronger just by being here.”  
  
The dwarf blushed red when Bilbo winked at him and Thranduil found himself grinding his teeth in irritation at the sight. Watching this self-professed unicorn flirt with Thorin's nephew in his throne room was absolutely the _last straw_ and he growled, “If someone doesn't start healing me **right this instant** , everyone is going in the dungeons until Erebor is nothing but a long-forgotten memory!”  
  
“All right. All right,” Bilbo muttered, waving a hand at the elf king dismissively. And then there was a unicorn looking up at Thranduil's throne.  
  
To tell the truth, the elf king hadn't entirely believed Bilbo until this moment; after all, a unicorn in Mirkwood sounded like the start of a bad joke. However, Thranduil could not deny what he was seeing; the halfling made a small unicorn, but he was one nonetheless.  
  
Bilbo wanted to laugh at Thranduil's clear surprise – it had probably been a long time since someone saw him gaping – but the hobbit knew he'd already pushed the elf's patience farther than he should. So the unicorn simply nudged Kíli into motion and then climbed daintily up the steps of Thranduil's throne.  
  
In this form, Bilbo could see the elf's injuries much clearer, his pain glowing a dim red that pulsed faintly with each beat of his heart. Dragon fire had burned deep and scars were always more difficult to mend than open wounds. If the unicorn had been alone, he might not have been able to heal Thranduil as he'd promised, but his magic could feed off Kíli's innocence and he wouldn't allow anything so pathetic as exhaustion to keep his dwarf from going free.  
  
So Bilbo bent his head, placing the tip of his horn against the elf king's cheek. He took a moment to gather his power and then poured the magic into Thranduil's injuries. In many ways, healing was the most instinctive of his powers for as his mother had told him many years ago: “All bodies want to be whole. You do not need to shape the magic; simply form a channel and let your patient show you the pain they wish to heal.”  
  
The magic did the work but it was the unicorn's strength that kept the connection open and the more serious the injury, the faster this ran out. So Bilbo locked his knees and shut out the world, emptying his mind of everything but Thranduil as his power began to erase the elf king's injuries.  
  
One by one, Thranduil's scars disappeared. In their place was unblemished skin, as smooth and pale as the glamour that he had worn for centuries.  
  
Bilbo was a little more than halfway done when he began to falter, Mirkwood having weakened him more than he had thought. But when the unicorn reached for Kíli, his beloved was right there – one hand pressed against his withers and his spirit shining bright. Even Mirkwood could not diminish Kíli and the dwarf's innocence bolstered Bilbo's fading strength just long enough.  
  
As soon as Thranduil's last scar faded, the unicorn released their connection and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His knees buckled and he nearly impaled the elf king with his horn before he turned his head, leaving him sprawled awkwardly across the steps of Thranduil's throne.  
  
_Maybe I'll just stay right here for a moment,_ Bilbo thought. The position wasn't particularly comfortable but he was just so _tired_ ; the last time he'd been this tired after a healing was when Marigold Bracegirdle had fallen out of an apple tree and cracked her head upon a rock. The poor lass had nearly died.  
  
“Bilbo? Bilbo?!” Kíli asked worriedly, shaking the unicorn's shoulder when he didn't move. “Don't pass out on me; I need you to shift back. I can't carry you like this.”  
  
The archer might be able to manage a slow wobble if Bilbo could keep his feet but that seemed unlikely and Thranduil was little help. The elf king was too busy feeling his face and grinning like a madman to be useful – though, to be fair, the change was quite impressive; Kíli wouldn't have believed it possible if he hadn't watched.  
  
“Please, Bilbo. Shift for me?” the archer asked again and this time Bilbo stirred. The unicorn opened his eyes, giving the faintest nod before he shifted and then slumped back down again. Like this, the hobbit was a much lighter weight to manage and Kíli lifted Bilbo into his arms easily.  
  
_Okay... and now what?_ the dwarf thought, looking around helplessly. He could hardly wander out into the hall while carrying his hobbit and although his mother had done her best, Kíli wasn't exactly skilled at royal niceties. Of course, how to politely interrupt an elf king's celebratory dancing had never come up during even the most detailed lessons; Dís was a marvel but she couldn't think of everything.  
  
“Excuse me, um, Thrandil? Thrandel?” Kíli asked, wincing each time he mangled the elf's name. “Is there a room for us? I mean, I could go find a corner if you're busy doing... _that_ , but Bilbo would rest better in a bed.”  
  
“Hmmm? Yes, of course. My apologies,” Thranduil said, suddenly all smiles as he looked down at the dwarf. “Your friend has more than fulfilled his portion of our bargain; now I must do the same. We shall have a grand feast tonight for you and your companions. My cooks will show you the true delights of Mirkwood – pies and wine and meat for all. I assure you, we do not subsist on vegetables like our cousins to the west.”  
  
“My thanks, sir. But truly, a room is all we need,” the archer replied, a little taken aback by Thranduil's sudden generosity. “While I am sure my companions would be glad to eat, Bilbo is exhausted and he may not wake before the dawn.”  
  
“Yes, yes. Whatever you wish,” the elf king said, waving his hand dismissively. “I suppose I shall have to make due with the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Such a pity that we must remove the gag for him to eat.”  
  
Clearly Bilbo's bargain had done little to repair the bad blood between Thranduil and his uncle, but the elf king did keep his word. Kíli spent the night watching over his unicorn on the softest feather bed that he had seen in weeks. Anything would have been a damn sight better than a cloak laid on the ground, but this mattress was made of gossamer or the fluff of dandelions and when sleep finally claimed the archer, his dreams were warm and sweet.

 


	10. A River Flows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering whether this story could get any more ridiculous, the answer is yes :)

It was long past dawn when Bilbo finally woke, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and smiling at Kíli cheerfully. The rest had done him good; the unicorn was completely recovered from his healing now. If anything, he seemed brighter than he'd been since walking into Mirkwood and it was good to see him close to his old self again.  
  
So Kíli followed Bilbo when he went to find the others, the pair promptly getting lost within the elf king's hall. A little embarrassing to be sure, but the captain of the guard tracked them down before they delved too deep into the cellars and it was hardly their fault that every turning looked the same.  
  
She brought the pair to Thranduil's dining hall where Kíli and Bilbo found their companions well on their way to decimating the elf king's breakfast feast. The archer and his unicorn were quick to join them since neither had eaten anything for hours and soon nothing remained on the table but a few crumbs of bread.  
  
“I trust you've all dined well,” Thranduil said, sweeping into the room as soon as the last spoon fell. He must have been watching through the keyhole to have such perfect timing and the thought made Kíli hide a giggle in his hand. The archer did not want to offend the elf king now.  
  
“You should be grateful, Thorin. Master Baggins here has bargained for safe passage through my forest and so I will allow you to continue on your quest. You will still most likely die and I cannot claim that I will mourn you, but I suppose even the largest fools should have their chance. My guards will escort you to the foot of the mountain; you can make your way from there.”  
  
“The dwarves of Erebor accept no char...” Thorin started before Nori and Dwalin tackled him. The rest of his companions were quite happy to take the help that Thranduil offered; there was pride and then there was damn fool stupidity.  
  
So with Thorin out of the way – and most importantly kept silent – Balin stepped forward to handle the details with his usual brisk efficiency. The dwarves were ready to float down the Forest River less than an hour later, Thranduil's barges packed high with supplies and two somewhat disgruntled elven guards. These elves hadn't been happy about escorting Thorin and his companions but a few stern words from their king had made them see that transporting a boatload of dwarves was preferable to a few nights in the dungeons and preparations had moved much faster after that.  
  
“All right. Everyone aboard,” the first elf ordered briskly. “Quickly now. Thranduil wished for speed.”  
  
“ _Good idea. The sooner these louts arrive at their destination, the sooner we can go back home again,_ ” the other elf muttered to his friend.  
  
 _How rude,_ Bilbo thought with a scowl. Sure the elf had said that last in Sindarin, but knowing another language was no excuse for gossiping behind a stranger's back. However, before the unicorn could give these elves a proper scolding, Kíli grabbed him by the hand.  
  
“Come on, Bilbo,” the archer said, tugging him toward the front of the boat excitedly. “If we sit up here, we'll have the best view of the river. I want to watch the water as we float.”  
  
“That's a fine idea,” the hobbit agreed, though his words and his actions didn't match as he gently pulled his beloved to a stop. “However, I don't think that we'll both fit. Why don't you sit up front and tell me what you see? I'll stay back here where I can have something a bit more sturdy underneath my feet.”  
  
“Oh. Are you sure?” Kíli asked, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I don't want you to miss out because of me.”  
  
“I promise; I will be perfectly happy sitting in the center of this barge,” Bilbo promised. “Hobbits and rivers do not mix and I would prefer to watch your excitement from a distance than risk falling in the water. I never did learn to swim and I don't trust these elves to rescue me.”  
  
“ _I'd_ rescue you,” the dwarf told him, crossing his arms across his chest a touch indignantly.  
  
“That's good to know, my dear. But such heroics won't be needed. I have no plans to get wet at the moment. Drowning is _so_ undignified.”  
  
“You really can't swim?”  
  
“I'm afraid not. Most hobbits never learn so there was no one to teach me,” Bilbo explained. “Except the naiads and they have trouble understanding that some folks need to breathe. It was safer not to ask.”  
  
“Well, that seems rather foolish,” Kíli said with a frown. “What if you fall in a lake when I'm not around to save you? That would be a stupid way to die.”  
  
The hobbit opened his mouth and discovered that he didn't have an answer. In truth, it would be a stupid way to perish and his excuses seemed rather flimsy now that his dwarf was concerned.  
  
“All right. It's decided,” Kíli concluded when Bilbo paused too long. “Once this quest is over, I'm teaching you to float. You don't have to be a brilliant swimmer, but you need to learn the basics. Otherwise I'll worry about you every time it rains.”  
  
 _Wait, what? I'm pretty sure I didn't agree to anything,_ the unicorn thought. But he knew that he would do exactly what his virgin wanted. He would learn to fly if the dwarf required it – anything to keep Kíli smiling.  
  
Which was how Bilbo found himself sitting dead center in the barge, Ori on one side and Fíli on the other, while Kíli gave both dwarves strict orders – if something happened, they were to keep Bilbo from drowning until the archer came for him. Once Ori and Fíli had agreed, Kíli kissed the hobbit on the cheek and then made his way to the prow of the boat while Bilbo stared after him with slightly stunned disbelief.  
  
“Don't feel too bad,” Ori said, patting the unicorn on the shoulder. “No one can stand against Kíli when he's worried about something. Those pleading eyes of his are practically a weapon and the dimples aren't much better. He's talked me into more scrapes than I like to admit.”  
  
“Even I still crumple sometimes,” Fíli chimed in from Bilbo's other side. “You held out longer than most and you're in love with him.”  
  
“I suppose you're right,” the hobbit replied. “As long as he doesn't realize that I'm completely wrapped around his finger, I think we'll be just fine.”  
  
“Don't worry. No one is more oblivious to his own charms than my brother,” Fíli told him. “And he's just as besotted as you are; I can't decide if the pair of you are sweet or sickening but he'd do anything to make you happy now. He only frets because he loves you; you should have seen him hover when I broke my leg.”  
  
“Well, at least the feeling's mutual,” Bilbo sighed. He couldn't stay annoyed with Kíli even without his brother's insight, and when the dwarf waved cheerfully from the front of the boat, the hobbit found himself waving back.  
  
The first portion of their river trip was largely uneventful as Bilbo watched the banks flow by. Seen like this, Mirkwood was far less depressing and Kíli's cheerful updates from the front made the hobbit grin. The dwarf seemed to have forgotten his worries, pointing out each new rock and forest creature with sincere delight. He nearly fell out of the boat trying to get a look at the intricate pulley system on the river sluice gate, exclaiming over every little detail as the elves lowered them. Of course, the other dwarves weren't much better about that one; even Thorin craned his head to keep looking at the stonework when their barge went around the bend.  
  
“Look, Bilbo! There are rapids up ahead!” Kíli called, pointing farther down the stream. The archer sounded thrilled by the prospect, though he also looked back and narrowed his eyes at Ori until the other dwarf wrapped one hand around their burglar's arm.  
  
“Your friend is right. You had best hold on,” the elves warned. “If you fall, we can't turn back.”  
  
“Oh dear lord. I think I'm going to be sick,” Dori groaned behind Bilbo. Most of the dwarves weren't enjoying the trip as much as Kíli – even Dwalin seemed a little green – and the hobbit had to admit he was slightly nervous about falling in.  
  
 _Maybe walking to Erebor would have been the better option,_ Bilbo wondered, though it was much too late for that.  
  
“Wheee!” Kíli shouted, throwing his hands up in the air as they hit the first rapid and their boat tilted dangerously.  
  
“We're all gonna die!” Bofur screamed, covering his eyes when the vessel hurtled over a waterfall, the barge landing with a thump while Ori clutched at Bilbo's arm. On the hobbit's other side, Fíli was clearly having almost as much fun as his brother, though not quite so vocally. Still, the dwarf was smiling widely when Bilbo glanced his way.  
  
“Having fun yet?” Fíli murmured and to the unicorn's great surprise, the answer was a most emphatic yes. Kíli's excitement was infectious; the archer had a way of living every moment to the fullest – no cares, no doubts, no second-guessing – and Bilbo could only try to do the same. The unicorn hadn't really been living before meeting his beloved; a lack of sorrow was not the same as being happy, not at all. But then Kíli had walked through his door and woken something Bilbo hadn't known was missing, dared him to risk and reminded him that life was beautiful.  
  
So the hobbit was done waiting for happiness to find him; he was going to go out there and grab it with both hands. There might be dark times in his future. There might be grief and tragedy. But this moment was lit with love and sunshine and Bilbo would remember every detail until the day he died.  
  
So he threw his arm around Ori's shoulders when their barge entered the next rapid, white water and sharp rocks flying by. Dangerous, yes, but also exhilarating, the elves steering them down the river skillfully. Bilbo couldn't do anything but hold on and enjoy the journey, his smile almost painfully wide as Kíli cackled with delight. Indeed, the hobbit's cheeks were aching when the river finally slowed.  
  
“We have _got_ to do that again,” Kíli crowed, taking Ori's place next to Bilbo.  
  
“Maybe once my heart stops pounding,” the hobbit said. “But I have to admit, that was fun. The most fun that I've had in quite a while. And Thranduil likes me now so I should be able to convince him to let us make the trip again.”  
  
“There is something wrong with both of you,” Thorin groaned from his place on the stern. The dwarf lord was hanging over the edge of the boat and trying not to lose his breakfast, a fight that Dori and Glóin had already given up. “Fíli, talk some sense into your brother, will you? It's unseemly to be so happy when I'm suffering. No sane creature would ever travel like that willingly.”  
  
“Sorry, uncle. I happen to agree with Kí on this one,” the blond dwarf cheerfully refused. “I know half a dozen lads who would pay good coin for the ride that we just took and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't one of them. It's hardly my brother's fault that you get motion-sick.”  
  
“You're a cruel lad, Fíli,” Thorin replied, holding his stomach and moaning dramatically. “No pity for your uncle. No sympathy for your elders. Which Valar did I anger to get an heir like you?”  
  
“Oh, you know you love me,” Fíli answered, laughing off his uncle's rudeness. “You would have been bored to tears in the Blue Mountains without Kíli and I to keep things interesting. All that running was good training, don't you know?”  
  
“It was something, all right. I've got grey hairs because of you,” Thorin retorted before the boat lurched in the water and his face went green again.  
  
“Do you think that I should heal him?” Bilbo whispered to Kíli. The hobbit wasn't particularly fond of the dwarf lord but that didn't mean he wanted to see him suffering and nausea was an easy thing to fix.  
  
“You can if you want,” the archer told him with a shrug. “But uncle will be fine either way. Mother always says that he has a taste for melodrama and as soon as he remembers that Thranduil's elves are watching, his nausea will mysteriously disappear. Thorin never gripes in front of strangers; he saves the moaning for his kin.”  
  
Kíli's complete lack of concern made Bilbo curious since his dwarf was usually the first to help. So instead of healing Thorin, the unicorn sat back and watched as he moaned and groaned and cursed. The variety was quite impressive but halfway through a particularly inventive sequence, the dwarf lord's words cut off. It seemed his nephew had been right because Thorin was looking at their elven guides with something close to chagrin and suddenly there was a proper king where the cursing dwarf had stood.  
  
“Yes, well. Do continue rowing,” Thorin told the elves, waving his hand pretentiously. “We are in a hurry and there's nothing to see here.”  
  
“ _These dwarves are crazy,_ ” the guards muttered to each other, trading exasperated glances before bending to their task. Somehow this was the last straw for Bilbo and the hobbit started laughing helplessly.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“My life is ridiculous,” the unicorn choked out between his giggles, the glare that Thorin sent him setting his nephews off as well.  
  
Soon the three of them were cackling with laughter, Bilbo and Kíli leaning against each other as their shoulders shook. The hobbit tried to stop but whenever he was close to regaining control, he would glance over at the archer or his brother and completely lose it once again. They laughed, Thorin sighed, and the elves both rolled their eyes, their continued mutterings about crazy dwarves seeming rather justified.  
  
“Don't look at me; my face hurts,” Fíli groaned as their barge neared the mouth of the river.  
  
“It's not my fault. Bilbo's the one who won't stop giggling,” his brother retorted.  
  
“Sorry, love, I just can't help it,” the hobbit said, burying his face in Kíli's shoulder in an attempt to make his laughter die.  
  
Like this, Bilbo didn't notice the man standing on the riverbank with his mouth agape. He had been dragging barrels from the water but he'd stopped when the elvish barge drew nearer, unused to seeing other vessels here. He had certainly never seen a boat of laughing dwarves and his face twisted with consternation when Kíli waved at him cheerfully.  
  
“No one is going to believe this,” Bard the Bowman muttered, watching the boat until it drifted out of sight. Once it was gone, the man returned to his work and tried to ignore the laughter still ringing in his ears.  
  
This encounter was enough to keep Fíli and Kíli giggling halfway across the Long Lake, muffling the noise in their hands so that the Lakemen would not hear. Bilbo had regained his dignity by this point – mostly because he'd run out of air to breathe – and he watched his beloved's joy indulgently. A joy that turned to wonder when the mist began to dissipate and a mountain rose before them on the plain.  
  
“Look,” Kíli breathed, grabbing Bilbo and Fíli by the arms. “Look, we made it. That's the Lonely Mountain over there.”  
  
A low murmur ran through Thorin's company as they looked up at the mountain. The dwarves of Erebor had returned to claim their homeland and while he would never admit such weakness, even Thorin Oakenshield had to brush tears from his eyes.

 


	11. A Dragon Flies

“So... What do we do now?” Kíli asked, setting down his last load of firewood. “Durin's Day isn't for another seven weeks.”  
  
Indeed, Thorin's company had arrived at Erebor almost two months early and while setting up their camp had taken several hours, Bombur could only move his cook pot so many times before pronouncing himself satisfied.  
  
“I guess we settle in and wait,” Fíli told his brother with a shrug. “If we find the right stone now then we'll be ready on Durin's Day.”  
  
“We have food to last as long as we ration carefully,” Bofur agreed.  
  
“And maybe Gandalf will come back,” Dori and Ori added. “It would be nice to have a wizard with us before we face the dragon.”  
  
“Don't be silly; we don't need Gandalf,” Bilbo said. “And we certainly don't need to wait here for seven weeks. I mean, you're dwarves, aren't you? I know the gate is blocked but can't you just move the rubble? I don't need a giant opening.”  
  
“You know... he has a point,” Dwalin told Thorin. “I could rig up a pulley on the side of the gate and have the largest chunks of rubble moved within the week.”  
  
“That sounds like a decent plan,” Balin agreed. “We could keep the secret door as backup in case the rocks shift wrong.”  
  
“I suppose it would be good to have an alternate escape route,” Thorin said grudgingly. “And the sooner Bilbo recovers the Arkenstone, the sooner we can all go home again. I do not relish a cold month sleeping on this mountainside and I can't wait to see Thranduil's face when we win victory. The smug old elven bastard thinks that we will die here but I plan to prove him wrong; he's going to choke on his damn disbelief.”  
  
_Great, uncle, just great,_ Fíli thought with a sigh. _When did spiting Thranduil become the basis of our strategy?_.  
  
The dwarf loved his uncle, he really did, but this was ridiculous. Their quest had seemed so simple back in the Shire; indeed, the trip had seemed like a grand adventure the way that Gandalf framed it and hiring a thief had appeared like the most brilliant scheme. Fíli had even enjoyed the journey for the most part – sure there had been dangers, but none truly threatening.  
  
However, now that the company was here, the dwarf was far from confident about their chances of success. While Bilbo had become a friend, no amount of unicorn magic would make him a burglar and Fíli didn't want to see him hurt. He was worried about Bilbo and he was worried about his brother because Kíli would be devastated if the hobbit died in this attempt. The pair of them might be sickeningly cute together, but Fíli would prefer gagging on their sweetness to patching up his brother's broken heart.  
  
Honestly, if his uncle hadn't been so set on going home, Fíli might have tried to stop this. Let Smaug have Erebor and all its treasures; the dwarf didn't need to be a prince and he liked Ered Luin just fine. But Thorin would never turn aside at this juncture and Bilbo didn't seem inclined to run away.  
  
So with Thorin's permission granted, the dwarf lord's companions began to clear the stone away from Erebor's blocked gates. Bilbo had never seen such structures before – even bent and blackened, the gates were beautiful, their twisted remnants towering far above the plain. The hobbit would have to return to the Lonely Mountain someday, bring Kíli home to visit once Erebor had been restored.  
  
“Are you excited, love?” Bilbo asked the archer. “I know you've been hearing stories about this place for years.”  
  
“I don't know. I am and yet I'm worried,” Kíli told him with a sigh. “What if Smaug wakes up while you're in the mountain or uncle raises up his army and then the dragon kills them all? I want you and me to get our happy ending but there's so much that could go wrong...”  
  
“Hey now, none of that,” the hobbit chided gently. “We're gonna be all right. I have no intention of being eaten by a dragon and your uncle does have some sense beneath all that majestic hair. If this first plan doesn't work – and I admit it's not the greatest – then we'll figure something out. I _am_ a unicorn.”  
  
“You know, that doesn't actually solve everything,” the archer replied, quirking his lips into a grin. “And this is all your fault anyway. I used to run off without thinking and let Fíli pick up the pieces but I've never had this much to lose before.”  
  
“So you're growing up a bit,” Bilbo said, smiling at Kíli. “That doesn't mean you can't still be adventurous. I'll watch out for you and you can watch out for me and we'll muddle through somehow. However, if you're that worried, why don't you come with me? We'll sneak into Erebor together and be the first to see your family's fabled halls. I want to share that with you, whatever happens afterward.”  
  
“I think I'd like that,” Kíli told him. “I think that I'd go crazy sitting out here wondering.”  
  
“Good, then it's decided,” the hobbit replied. “You're coming with me and that's that.”  
  
So when the dwarves had finally cleared a passage through the gates, Kíli and Bilbo both made ready, the archer sharpening his sword and checking every arrow to ensure it would fly straight. Then he took the hobbit's hand and they walked forward to enter Erebor.  
  
“What do you think you're doing, nephew?” Thorin asked, blocking Kíli's way.  
  
“I'm going with him, uncle.”  
  
“No. You are not. It's much too dangerous,” the dwarf lord sputtered. “Stealing from the dragon is the job of our burglar and I won't have you risk our own life needlessly. Bilbo here is good at disappearing; if he can travel invisibly with our company for hours, Smaug shouldn't even notice his presence when he grabs the Arkenstone.”  
  
“... Are you _serious_?”  
  
After Kíli's exclamation, there was dead silence for a moment as Thorin looked at his nephew quizzically. But then Nori leaned and loudly whispered in Dwalin's ear, “Well, I guess Bilbo wins the bet then; he put his gold on never a few weeks ago. Sometimes I worry about the future of this kingdom.”  
  
“That's why we're here. Thorin looks pretty for the paintings and we keep everything running smoothly behind the scenes,” the other dwarf replied, trying not to laugh.  
  
Fíli overheard Dwalin and let out a snicker of his own before reaching out to poke his brother in the side. Kíli startled, snapping his mouth shut and pretending that he hadn't just been gaping at his uncle's stupidity.  
  
“Right. Like I was saying... I am entering Erebor with Bilbo. It may be dangerous but he is my fiancé and I won't let him go alone,” Kíli told the dwarf lord firmly. “If I'm old enough to get married then I'm old enough for this.”  
  
Thorin wanted to protest – his nephew would never be old enough to fight a dragon – but he recognized the stubborn look on the archer's face. Kíli had never liked being told how he should live and indeed, he often did the opposite just to prove he could. So, after a long moment of consideration, the dwarf lord sighed, “All right, lad. I guess you win. Even if I forbid this, you'll just sneak in anyway. But please be careful and remember that fleeing is sometimes the better part of valor; we'll be waiting by the gate here just in case.”  
  
“Thank you, uncle,” Kíli beamed, his stern expression breaking into a brilliant grin. He bounced forward to embrace the dwarf lord tightly, waiting until Thorin returned his hug before letting go again.  
  
“Don't worry too much,” the archer said, turning to his brother. “We'll be back in a flash.”  
  
“Of course I'll worry, you idiot,” Fíli replied, pulling Kíli into a fierce hug of his own. “But whatever happens, I'm still proud of you. My little brother is growing up before my eyes.”  
  
The dwarf ruffled Kíli's hair and then released him, pushing the archer toward Bilbo who had been listening to this exchange with a fond smile on his face. Watching his beloved was always enjoyable, watching him stand up for himself was even better, and watching him stand up to Thorin with confidence was a positive delight.  
  
“Let's go, Bilbo,” Kíli said, taking the hobbit's hand again. His face was red from a combination of Fíli's praise and the thumbs up that Nori gave him, but there was a proud little spring in his step as he walked up to the gates.  
  
Kíli and Bilbo climbed the rubble and squeezed through the narrow passage that Dwalin had created, leaving behind the sunshine for the dusty gloom of Erebor. Even in the near dark, Kíli could see the bones of grandeur all around them, tattered tapestries and statues lining the entrance hall while high arching ceilings rose far above his head. His ancestors had built to last and even a dragon's fury had not destroyed their masterwork, though Smaug's claws had left deep gouges in the floor.  
  
“We're the first people to walk these halls in decades, Bilbo. Can you believe that?” the archer whispered as he looked around. “Everything feels frozen, like they all left just yesterday.”  
  
“The Lonely Mountain has been waiting for her children,” the unicorn replied, his own voice hushed in deference. “Soon this kingdom will live again, ringing with the sound of hammers and warmed by furnaces. There will be young dwarrowlings raised within these caverns, a whole new generation born in Erebor's embrace, and their laughter will echo brightly from the walls.”  
  
“I hope you're right,” Kíli answered. “I really do.”  
  
“Of course I am, you'll see. Smaug's time in Erebor is done,” Bilbo told him with a quick flash of grin. “In fact, we may be able to resolve this whole mess peacefully.”  
  
“Now _that_ would be a miracle,” Kíli replied. “Although, if anyone could pull it off, I suppose it would be you. Still, I think I'll keep my bow at the ready just in case.”  
  
“That's probably a good idea. If things go wrong, I'll be glad to have an archer at my back,” Bilbo agreed, patting the archer on the shoulder. “Now, which way to the dragon, love?”  
  
“Well, the treasure chamber should be in that direction according to the stories,” the dwarf told him, pointing deeper into the mountain. “And I'd wager Smaug is there.”  
  
Kíli couldn't deny that he was nervous as he and Bilbo climbed the stairs, making their way into the heart of Erebor. His bow seemed a fragile weapon with which to face a monster out of legend, particularly when there was far more than his own life on the line. However, Kíli refused to show his fear or allow his hands to tremble; the dwarf was here to protect his beloved and he was going to do exactly that.  
  
Even so, his nerves were wound tight by the time the stairs opened up into an enormous treasure chamber, hills of gold stretching as far as he could see. Kíli had never imagined such wealth – his wildest dreams had barely scratched the surface – and for a moment the archer could not breathe.  
  
His life would have been so different if Smaug had never attacked the Lonely Mountain; he and Fíli would have been princes in truth instead of only name. Maybe their mother wouldn't look so worn by hard work and deprivation and their uncle would be known for smiling rather than his frowns. Maybe their father wouldn't have died plying his trade in the Northlands one hard cold winter and Kíli would have more than a vague memory of that cheerful face.  
  
But even as the archer wondered, he shook the thought away. While Kíli might have been born a prince in some other lifetime, the idea of being bound by rules and dignity made him feel rather faint. Besides, the dwarf might never have met Bilbo without the quest for Erebor and he wouldn't trade his hobbit for all the gold in Middle Earth.  
  
So Kíli took one last look at his family's treasure and then he put it from his mind. The gemstones might be pretty but as soon as Thorin had his kingdom, the archer was heading back to Hobbiton. Second breakfast and lazy cuddles seemed like a much better way to live.  
  
“Do you see Smaug or the Arkenstone?” Kíli asked. “Supposedly the King's Jewel glows so it shouldn't be too hard to find.”  
  
“Seriously? It glows?” Bilbo whispered back incredulously. “You'd think someone would have mentioned that before. But no, I don't see anything except a whole lot of treasure. I don't know how Thorin expects me to find one tiny gemstone in this great bloody mess.”  
  
“Mum says Thrór kept his treasure organized, every jewel cross-referenced by hue and carat size. Maybe uncle thought that Smaug would do the same?”  
  
“Well, clearly not,” the hobbit replied before sighing heavily. “All right, I guess there's nothing for it. We'll just have to start looking and hope luck is on our side. Tell me if you see a glowing gemstone or a giant fire drake.”  
  
Kíli wasn't sure how long he and Bilbo wandered through the endless sea of treasure, coins and baubles shifting underfoot. But the archer was just leaning down to check yet another gem for signs of glowing when something rippled in the corner of his eye. He snapped upright, his bow nocked and ready as he searched for a target in the gloom. Yet there was nothing to be seen, only more gold and gleaming treasure, and eventually Kíli released his draw again.  
  
_You're jumping at shadows,_ the dwarf told himself with a shake of his head. _You need to get a grip._  
  
He was about to return to helping Bilbo when there was another movement, a handful of coins suddenly sliding toward his boots. A great rolling motion rippled through the gold as though it were breathing, and Kíli stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what this meant. Smaug was here, buried in his family's treasure, and the dwarf could barely comprehend the dragon's size as what had seemed like random piles suddenly took on dangerous shape.  
  
“ _Bilbo!_ ” Kíli hissed, looking around for his hobbit wildly. He was kneeling a few meters away, hands pressed to the gold only inches from the dragon's snout, and the archer swore that his heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Bilbo, don't move!” he warned, starting toward the unicorn with some vague idea of pulling him to safety – as though any place in this mountain could be safe from such a beast.  
  
“It's okay, my dear. You can put your bow away,” Bilbo replied with a wide smile. “Smaug isn't going to hurt you. He can't hurt you or me. I was right and so we're just going to have a little chat about proper manners and eating relatives.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
The hobbit seemed far too unconcerned by their current situation and Kíli had a sudden burst of sympathy for all his relatives. No wonder Fíli kept threatening to tie their hands together and Thorin blamed him for the grey streaks in his beard. If the dwarf survived this, he owed them both apologies.  
  
“Bilbo?! What are you doing?!”  
  
Kíli watched in disbelief as his beloved picked up a handful of gold coins and threw them at the dragon, aiming roughly where his eyes should be. The coins landed with a clatter, the sound ricocheting loudly off the walls. Then there was silence and the dwarf was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Smaug erupted from the treasure with a roar.  
  
“Who dares to disturb my slumber?” the dragon bellowed, rearing up and up and up until his wings brushed against the ceiling. “Who dares to challenge me?”  
  
“My name is Bilbo Baggins and I am not here to fight,” the hobbit shouted back. “I am here to tell you that the dwarves of Erebor are returning to their homeland. By right of blood and kinship, you will grant this boon to me.”  
  
“And how do you claim kinship with a creature such as me?” Smaug laughed. “Why should I grant you anything when I could simply eat you now?”  
  
“Well, if you stopped your posturing for one quick second and actually listened to your senses, you wouldn't need to ask,” Bilbo replied as Kíli stood gaping, frozen in shock by the hobbit's audacity. He couldn't move even when his beloved shifted briefly, one tiny unicorn glaring at the dragon fearlessly before he changed back again. “I'm a unicorn.”  
  
“So you are,” Smaug rumbled, lowering himself gracefully onto his bed of gold. “Blood of my blood and distant kin indeed. I suppose that I must listen, though that does not mean I will agree. Unless you have brought that virgin here in payment. All this gold is beautiful but it does not smell so sweet; the true treasure of my heart is one that lives and breathes.”  
  
“This virgin is mine, thank you, and thus your kin as well; you would do well to keep your desires to yourself,” the hobbit retorted fiercely. Then he turned to his beloved and smiled sheepishly, “Kíli, I'd like you to meet my great-great-great-half-uncle: Smaug the Terrible.”

 


	12. A Gemstone Glows

“I'm sorry, but **what**?!”  
  
“I don't know all the details,” Bilbo explained as Kíli gaped at his beloved and Smaug watched them both with open curiosity. “But supposedly Arabelle, my great-great-great-grandmother, fell for a dragon in her youth and she told my ancestors to call upon the children of that union if they ever needed help. Smaug was the elder, a dragon of fiery scales and unbridled fury, while his younger sister was an ice drake named Evarel. None of my relatives ever tried to find them, but we've been passing down the story since Arabelle left the Shire and I recognized the description when your uncle hired me.”  
  
“You are close to the truth, little cousin, though I never expected to meet another of my kindred,” Smaug rumbled, bending his enormous head to look Bilbo in the eye. “Halflings always seemed like such small and fragile creatures; I assumed your bloodline had been hunted to extinction long ago.”  
  
“We are tougher than we look,” Bilbo replied, meeting the dragon's gaze as best he could. “And my magic is no weaker for the compactness of my form.”  
  
“I suppose you must be strong to have reached this mountain from the Westlands,” Smaug chuckled. “And I do not doubt your courage either. Only the truly brave or truly foolish make demands of dragons and you could not have been certain of our kinship until recently.”  
  
“But if you're a unicorn, how could you destroy Dale and attack the Lonely Mountain?” Kíli asked in bafflement. “Bilbo says that unicorns can't hurt innocents.”  
  
“I am sure that Bilbo says many things,” the dragon hissed scornfully. “But the halfling knows only what has been passed down within his family and you will learn that legends do not always speak the truth. While unicorns are light incarnate, being good and being kind do not always go together and so few souls are truly innocent these days. I could probably slaughter every dwarf outside this mountain and barely blink an eye.”  
  
“You will not hurt the Sons of Durin. They are under my protection as the kindred of my heart,” Bilbo growled fiercely, the horn on his forehead flashing bright.  
  
“You malign me, cousin,” Smaug replied, brushing off the hobbit's threat with a dismissive snort. “I merely wished to prove a point to your pretty virgin there. In truth, I killed only half a dozen warriors when I took this kingdom and their hearts were black as sin. Everyone else ran like cowards from my fangs and fire and the stories that they carried have let me sleep in peace.”  
  
“And what of those who died on the road or from their injuries?”  
  
“Those dwarves are not my problem,” the dragon retorted. “I was called to this mountain by the evil in its heart; if Thrór did not want to suffer then he should have tossed the gemstone back into the deeps.”  
  
“Do you mean the Arkenstone?” Kíli asked. “I have never heard that it was evil.”  
  
“Because no one wishes to believe the worst of something beautiful,” Smaug told him, a shining jewel appearing in his claws. “This gem was cursed. It bred greed and sickness in anyone who saw it and even if I had not come, Erebor would have fallen soon enough. Your kingdom would have crumbled as Thrór fell into madness, the blood of his people flowing like rivers on the plain. Your kindred should be thanking me for the service that I've done.”  
  
“Yeah... I don't think that's gonna happen.”  
  
“You cannot truly expect the dwarves of Erebor to be grateful,” Bilbo said. “You could have purified the Arkenstone without forcing them to leave.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Smaug acknowledged with a sinuous shrug. “But I am as much a dragon as I am a unicorn. You could not expect me to overlook such a hoard as this. I deserve to complete my work in comfort, do I not?”  
  
“Your work is done,” the hobbit replied. “Whatever evil once lived within that gemstone, I cannot feel it now. Take what you must as compensation but give the Lonely Mountain back.”  
  
“And if I don't?” Smaug asked with a sneer. “Our shared blood does not give you the right to command my actions and you cannot beat me in a fight. I go where I will and do what I wish; I am Smaug the Terrible and no can defy me, particularly not one midget unicorn.”  
  
“Well, I never,” Bilbo huffed. “Didn't your mother teach you any manners?”  
  
“ _Dragon_ , remember? I don't have to be polite.”  
  
“Fine. Then I guess the gloves come off. Leave this mountain or be overrun by dwarrows, a thousand tiny warriors who aren't remotely virginal. You won't be able to touch them, you won't be able to eat them, and I won't let you threaten anyone,” Bilbo snarled, jabbing his finger at the dragon. “And if that's not bad enough, I'll stay right here with Kíli so that you can feel him and want him and never ever have him because this dwarf is mine and mine alone. Stay here and I'll ensure that you _never_ find a virgin of your own. So tell me, _cousin_ , is this golden treasure worth that much to you?”  
  
The hobbit finished his rant and trailed off panting, Kíli's fingers tightening on his bow as he waited for the dragon to react. Smaug was watching Bilbo with wide-eyed consternation and indeed, it had been a long time since anyone had dared to speak to him like that.  
  
“You truly are a vicious little creature, aren't you?” Smaug said finally, both Kíli and Bilbo relaxing slightly at the admiration in his voice. “And I will admit that I grow bored of posturing sometimes. It can be difficult to balance both sides of my nature and I crave a proper fight. I miss the days when good and evil existed in stark contrast and I could drench my claws in blood without paying such a cost.”  
  
“Then go to Dol Guldur.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dol Guldur is the answer to your problem,” the hobbit explained. “It is a fortress filled with orcs and goblins and I've heard rumors of a necromancer in its deepest halls. Anything you find there will be evil to the core. So let them feel your fury and when your wrath is sated, you will have a fortress of your own.”  
  
“I am listening,” the dragon replied. “Where is this place of which you speak?”  
  
“In Mirkwood, far to the north and the west from what I have been told,” Bilbo continued. “Outside the boundaries of Thranduil's kingdom and close to the Misty Mountains should you ever feel the need for goblin flesh again.”  
  
“There is mithril in those mountains,” Kíli added, trying to strengthen his beloved's argument. “Mithril, gold, and other treasures from the time of Khazad-dûm.”  
  
“You could build a new hoard, a better hoard,” the hobbit said, building on these details. “One filled with silver steel and cradled upon the bones of enemies. With Erebor restored, there will be trade traveling across the mountains and perhaps you will find your virgin in a merchant caravan. You would certainly have a better shot in Dol Guldur than you will inside this mountain, sleeping your life away with nothing but these cold gems for company.”  
  
“Enough, cousin,” Smaug said, stopping Bilbo when he paused for breath. “I will accept your offer if only to have some peace again. But I will not leave Erebor empty-handed. That is too much to ask.”  
  
“Well... I don't actually have the authority to give you any treasure.”  
  
“I do. He can have my share,” Kíli interrupted before the deal could fall apart. Thorin would be furious but there was gold to spare and the archer refused to miss this opportunity. “We'll rig you up a giant bag full if you just leave tonight. Take whatever gems you want to start your hoard in Dol Guldur.”  
  
“Except the Arkenstone,” Bilbo amended. “I was contracted to retrieve that jewel for Thorin and I'm gonna need it back.”  
  
“Fine. Whatever,” Smaug snorted dismissively. He tossed the gem to Bilbo and then reared up on his hind legs to tear a pennant from the walls. “Help me load this cloth with treasure and we can call our business done.”  
  
It took several hours before the dragon was satisfied with his portion of the treasure, a king's ransom in gold and gemstones bundled together carefully. He rejected any jewel that wasn't perfect and any coin that wasn't round and Kíli was ready to tear his hair out with frustration by the time that were done. But eventually Smaug lifted his makeshift bag of treasure and slithered his way toward the southern battlements.  
  
Bilbo and Kíli followed, wanting to ensure that the dragon kept his word. Although, truthfully, there was something else weighing on the archer's mind and as Smaug climbed onto the ramparts, Kíli's curiosity got the better of his self-control.  
  
“Wait!” the dwarf called. “Before you leave, can I see your other form?”  
  
Smaug's head swung back to look at Kíli, pinning the archer beneath one amber eye, and for a moment he thought that he'd ruined everything. But then the dragon smiled toothily.  
  
“For you, my lovely virgin, yes. I will show you my true magnificence and you will dream of me. You will see that I am the most gorgeous creature in all of Middle Earth and if you ever tire of living with my lesser cousin, you know where I shall be.”  
  
Smaug set down his treasure and then began to shimmer as a great rush of wind nearly knocked Kíli from his feet. When he'd recovered, the dragon was gone and a blood red unicorn was standing in his place. Like Bilbo, Smaug's heritage bled through the transformation but that was the end of their similarities. For while Smaug also had a spiral horn upon his forehead, he had two more horns as well and no mane or tail to speak of. There were wings upon his back, too small with which to fly but mirroring the clawed webbing of the dragon he had been. Smaug was both strange and beautiful, like an intricately detailed painting that Kíli didn't dare to touch, and the dwarf was almost relieved when he shifted back again.  
  
“Goodbye, cousin. You may visit if you wish to and your virgin comes along,” the dragon told Bilbo with a wink. Then Smaug grasped his bag of treasure and leaped into the sky.  
  
“Do you think he's really gone?” Kíli asked, watching the fire drake until he'd disappeared behind the clouds. “This seems rather anticlimactic somehow, like our quest should have ended with flame and fury and a bloodstained arrow in my hands.”  
  
“Trust me, this is better. Any hobbit will tell you that the best way to solve a conflict is with pointed words and a good cup of tea, none of that mucking about with swords and injuries,” Bilbo replied. “Erebor is free now. Smaug gave his word and a promise is something that every unicorn holds dear. He will not return unless invited even if he chooses not to stay in Dol Guldur and I rather doubt your uncle will ever ask the dragon back.”  
  
No, that does seem unlikely,” the archer agreed with a laugh. “And if it really is over, there's something I need to say. Bilbo...”  
  
“Yes, love?”  
  
“Next time, _tell me_ when you've got something crazy planned,” Kíli ordered, smacking the hobbit on the shoulder. “I thought that you'd lost your mind when you woke the dragon up.”  
  
“Sorry, darling,” the hobbit apologized. “I didn't want to get your hopes up if I turned out to be wrong but I should have told you once I knew for sure. I was showing off again.”  
  
“Yes, you were. What if I had tried to shoot Smaug and ruined everything?”  
  
Bilbo winced. “It won't happen again. Forgive me?”  
  
“Of course I forgive you. I'll always forgive your showing off as long as you forgive my recklessness,” Kíli replied, throwing an arm around the hobbit's shoulders. “We'll keep each other honest and get better inch by inch. Now, come on. The others must have noticed Smaug's departure and my brother is probably freaking out.”  
  
Indeed, the dwarf was greeted by an ear-splitting, “Dammit, Kíli! I thought you died in there!” when he and Bilbo walked back to the gates, Fíli nearly taking all three of them down as he slammed into his brother at full speed. “What the hell happened?”  
  
“An explanation would be welcome,” Thorin agreed, following more sedately in his nephew's wake. “How did you make Smaug leave the mountain and will he be coming back?”  
  
“Well... that's really Bilbo's story,” Kíli said, looking at his hobbit. “But we don't have to worry about the dragon anymore.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Smaug's a relative,” Bilbo told Thorin with a shrug. “And we had a little chat. He's flown off to conquer Dol Guldur instead.”  
  
“I... you... what... ?!” the dwarf lord stuttered, gaping at his burglar in shock. Bilbo had to bite back a smirk at his expression; although, to be fair, the rest of his companions were just as confused right now.  
  
“How could you possibly be related?” Fíli asked when his uncle showed no signs of recovering.  
  
“He's my great-great-great-half-uncle and part unicorn as well,” Bilbo explained. “Which means that Smaug can't hurt me or anyone that I call kindred. All of Durin's Folk are off limits due to my relationship with Kíli and it was pretty easy to convince him to move on after that. I can't imagine why, but the thought of living with a bunch of dwarrows underfoot made the dragon cringe. So with a little bit of gold to sweeten the deal, Smaug was willing to leave the Lonely Mountain. And I doubt he'd even eat you if you went by Dol Guldur.”  
  
“You gave away my treasure?!” Thorin shouted, finding his voice at last.  
  
“Just a little. Trust me, you'll barely notice,” the hobbit replied, waving his hand dismissively. “And I got your pretty rock back, which was all you paid me for.”  
  
“I didn't pay you anything.”  
  
“Exactly. So you can hardly complain about my methods, can you?” Bilbo snorted, reaching into his tunic and pulling out the Arkenstone. He tossed the gem to Thorin, the dwarf falling silent at the sight of the King's Jewel. “Don't worry about the dragon. Just be happy that you've reclaimed your homeland and your people won't have to wander anymore.”  
  
“Our quest is truly over?” Thorin asked quietly. “This isn't some cruel trick on the dragon's part?”  
  
“No. It is no trick,” the hobbit promised. “Smaug gave me his word. Your kin are safe now and will be forevermore.”  
  
“Because you plan to marry Kíli?”  
  
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”  
  
“Then you must be wed this instant,” the dwarf lord pronounced. “Balin! Dori! Come here. Find these two some proper clothes and give them vows to read. We will have a wedding now so that Smaug can't change his mind.”  
  
“Really?” Bilbo asked in surprise. “But I thought you hated me?”  
  
“Are you kidding? You sent Smaug to live in Mirkwood. You're my favorite nephew now,” Thorin cackled. “Thranduil is going to pitch a fit when he finds out what happened here.”  
  
“There's just one small problem, uncle,” Kíli interrupted.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Mother will kill the both of us if I get married now,” the archer said, his brother nodding in agreement at his side.  
  
“All three of us,” Fíli corrected.  
  
“Right... you have a point,” Thorin conceded, wincing at the thought of his sister's icy wrath. Dís was all about slow revenge, striking when the original insult was long forgotten by everyone but her. Indeed, the dwarf lord was still paying for things he'd said in the past decade and the last thing he wanted to do was add another tally mark. “Fine, the wedding can wait until your mother joins us. But Bilbo isn't going anywhere until the two of you are married. I want him here to explain in case Smaug decides to visit and wonders why you haven't tied the knot.”  
  
“That's all right with me,” the hobbit shrugged. “I'll need to send a message home so no one declares me dead, but I don't really want to cross the Misty Mountains in the winter anyway. As long as Kíli agrees, we'll leave for the Shire in the spring.”  
  
“Of course, I don't mind. This way you get to meet my mother,” Kíli said excitedly. “Although, did _no one_ think that I planned to stay here? I could be a prince if I really wanted to.”  
  
“Don't be silly.”  
  
“Sure you could.”  
  
“I tried to bet on this weeks ago, but Nori wouldn't take it.”  
  
“Because it's too damn obvious.”  
  
“Sorry, lad.”  
  
“But Bag End was so nice.”  
  
“ _Did_ you want to stay?” Thorin asked, talking over his companions. “You will always have a place here, but I assumed that you'd be happier living quietly with Bilbo than dealing with a court full of dwarven nobles. You've always hated politics.”  
  
“Well, I _do_ ,” Kíli admitted. “But I would have done my duty if you asked.”  
  
“We know that, little brother,” Fíli told him. “That's why we haven't. Go live your life the way you want to. I'll be doing just the same.”  
  
“If you're sure, you diplomatic weirdo. But you had better write me lots of letters,” the archer ordered. “And come visit when you can. Also, tell me if you need me. You know that I'll come back.”  
  
“Both of us,” Bilbo promised, smiling at Fíli. “It never hurts to have a unicorn.”  
  
The dwarf let out a bark of laughter and clapped the hobbit on the shoulder. “It's a deal. You visit me and I'll visit you and between us we'll turn that little pathway into a proper thoroughfare. Maybe Smaug will even come along someday.”  
  
“Lord, I hope not,” Thorin muttered, but he was smiling.  
  
“Wonderful, that's settled then,” Bombur said, clapping his hands together cheerfully. “Which means it's time for supper. If everyone follows me to the kitchens, I'll make a pot of stew. I've been saving something special for this moment since our quest began. Three cheers for our burglar and the return of Erebor.”  
  
“Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”  
  
“Three cheers for unicorns!”  
  
The halls echoed loudly with the sound of dwarven voices, words and laughter bouncing from the stone. And the Lonely Mountain stood a little taller, her gems shone a little brighter in the darkness, for Erebor and her children were no longer parted; Thorin's people had come home.

 


	13. Art: Smaug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious. I imagine Smaug as something like this.

Unicorn!Smaug:

 

 

 

 

 Unicorn!Smaug at home in Dol Guldur


	14. A Life Ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I sort of forgot that I hadn't posted this.

“Look, darling. We're almost there,” Bilbo said. “That river marks the edge of Hobbiton.”  
  
He and Kíli had been traveling west for several weeks now, the journey home passing much more quickly than the trek to Erebor. This was partially due to the fine ponies that had been their wedding gift from Beorn since these animals were almost able to match the unicorn for speed. Although Kíli generally rode Bilbo, they had needed pack horses to carry the wealth of supplies and presents that their friends had offered them.  
  
Apparently a proper dwarvish wedding required gifts from all attending and the guest list had contained more kings and nobles than Bilbo had known existed in the East. Thranduil and his children, Beorn and Gandalf and several other wizards, Lord Dáin from the Iron Hills and a contingent of men sent from Laketown, plus all the dwarves of Ered Luin, everyone had come to wish the couple well.  
  
Even Smaug had arrived to check in on his great-great-grand-nephews since Bilbo had sent him an invitation for politeness' sake. Thankfully, he came as a unicorn rather than a dragon, though his presence had raised a few eyebrows nonetheless. Indeed, Bard the Bowman's daughters had spent most of the ceremony tying flowers to Smaug's horns, the dragon preening happily underneath their careful hands.  
  
Of course, Bilbo could have been standing in an empty field and he would not have noticed. He only had eyes for Kíli's brilliant smile, the memory of his husband's joy putting a soft look on his face.  
  
“We should walk from here,” the hobbit said, taking the archer by the hand. “My neighbors will have questions, lots of questions once they see that wedding band, and it would be cruel to make you take the brunt of their interrogation. At least this way, I can talk.”  
  
“I appreciate the concern,” Kíli replied with a laugh. “But I walked into a dragon's lair without flinching; I think that I can handle a few nosy hobbits now.”  
  
“Yeah, well. You've never met Lobelia,” Bilbo told him. “Her mother was a banshee and a sour one at that. She's been after Bag End for years and she was probably furious to learn that I was still alive. Whatever you do, don't talk to her alone.”  
  
“All right, I'll be careful,” the dwarf promised. He wasn't sure if this Lobelia could really hurt him but there was no harm in indulging Bilbo's protectiveness. To tell the truth, Kíli found his husband's worry rather sweet whether he was offering the dwarf another coat or fretting about bandits on the road.  
  
Not that any sane bandit would have dared to attack the couple after they'd left Erebor. Sure Kíli and Bilbo had been loaded down with presents, but they'd also been well escorted: by Fíli to the Mirkwood, by Thranduil's son to Dol Guldur, by Smaug and Beorn through the mountains and on to Rivendell. Kíli and Bilbo were only alone now because they had politely declined Elrond's offer of his guardsmen, rightly deciding that one heavily armed dwarf and a unicorn would be safe enough on the Great Eastern Road.  
  
Honestly, the closest they'd come to danger was encountering some rangers and that was more an issue of bad wine than arrows in the dark. Rangers were always looking for news of other lands and Kíli and Bilbo had quite a tale to tell. So they swapped drinks and stories late into the evening and Kíli had been very grateful for his husband the next morning since Bilbo had cured his hangover with only a tiny bit of begging on his part.  
  
Then the couple had continued westward, sticking to the road except for one small detour to pick up Fíli's wedding gift. Some treasure had turned out to be an entire chest of gold and silver, enough that Kíli and Bilbo wouldn't have to worry about money for a long, long time.  
  
“Even if it smells of troll,” the unicorn muttered, glancing back at the chest. It was tied securely on his pony, right next to Bombur's pouch of spices and the wooden toys that Bifur'd carved.  
  
“Bilbo?” Kíli asked. “Did you say something?”  
  
“Nothing important. Just gathering wool,” the hobbit chuckled. “We should get moving; I'm ready to be home and my neighbors will think I've lost it if we keep standing here.”  
  
He tugged Kíli into motion and the two of them stepped across the boundary line of Hobbiton. They led their ponies toward Bag End, strolling along leisurely as Bilbo pointed out the landmarks of his town.  
  
“That's Bywater Pool on our left and Sandyman's Mill on the far side. Remember? You and the others stayed in the Green Dragon last time you were here; that's right across the bridge. Over that hill are the Great Smials; those hobbit holes are owned by some of the oldest families in the Shire – Bracegirdles, Proudfoots, and half a dozen more. It's those old grandams who are going to lead the phalanx of hospitality; expect cookies, tea, and interrogation by terrifying hobbitesses who can see into your soul. Seriously, Mauve Bolger is a siren; she can read your mind.”  
  
“You're not exactly making me want to visit any neighbors,” Kíli told the hobbit with a laugh. “Telepathic grandmas seem like a good reason to hide inside your house.”  
  
“Our house now, darling,” Bilbo corrected fondly. “And Mauve is harmless, really. She just sits and smirks until you tell her all your secrets anyway. But the cookies are well worth it and I promise I won't make you face her charms alone.”  
  
“My hero.”  
  
“Damn straight. Now, we're about to pass the Party Field on the right there, which is exactly what it sounds like and doubles as the market square. That's where I want to plant Beorn's acorn,” the hobbit said, pointing to the east end of the field. “We'll be able to see the tree from our front garden once it grows tall enough. A living memory of our journey and the road that led us here.”  
  
“It is a good story, isn't it?” Kíli asked, giving Bilbo a fond smile. “Very romantic. The dashing adventurer and his courageous unicorn, saving each other's lives and fighting evil from here to Erebor. Though I admit, I will be glad to stay in one place for a while. I'm sick of traveling.”  
  
“Me too, love; me too,” the unicorn agreed. “Most of all, I'm sick of cooking on a fire instead of a proper stove. But we're almost there now. In fact, as soon as we round this corner, you'll see...”  
  
Bilbo fell silent as Bag End came into view. Because the hobbit couldn't actually see his smial even though he knew that it was there; all he could see was an enormous crowd standing by his gate. He recognized most of his closest neighbors and some relatives: Mauve Bolger and her brood, the Sackville-Bagginses and _is that Augustine Took? And his cousins? Oh dear lord._  
  
“Brace yourself, darling,” the unicorn warned, squeezing Kíli's hand.  
  
“Why? What's going on?”  
  
“We have a greeting party. That looks like most of Hobbiton and a horde of Tooks as well,” Bilbo explained before wincing guiltily. “I knew I shouldn't have mentioned our arrival time in my last letter. Now they've all come to say hello.”  
  
“And that's a bad thing?” the archer asked, his tone adorably confused. “I mean, Lobelia and Mauve both sounded a little scary, but what's wrong with the others? I have to meet your friends and family eventually so why not do it all at once?”  
  
“Well, I suppose that's more efficient,” Bilbo conceded. “It's just...” _You have no idea what you're in for. None at all._  
  
Unfortunately, before he found the words to explain the true terror of Tooks en masse, one of the waiting hobbits finally noticed that the guests of honor had arrived and at that point, it was too late to flee.  
  
“Look!” Prudo Proudfoot shouted, pointing right at Bilbo. “They're home”  
  
Suddenly the unicorn and his dwarf were surrounded by smiling children, lads and lasses grabbing their cloaks and pulling them toward Bag End. Bilbo couldn't hear a thing over their chatter but he'd spent enough time with his cousins to guess at their questions anyway.  
  
“Where have you been?” “Who is that?” “I want candy.” “Do you have presents?”  
  
The cacophony was almost overwhelming and the hobbit glanced over at his husband to make sure he was okay. He was expecting mild panic but Kíli just looked delighted as the swarm of fauntlings ran around his legs.  
  
“I've never seen this many children in one place,” the dwarf told Bilbo excitedly, before kneeling down to look one of the smallest lasses in the eye. “Hi, I'm Kíli. What's your name?”  
  
“Isabel,” she answered shyly.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Isabel,” Kíli said. “Would you like to introduce me to your family? I'm new here and I could use someone strong and brave to help me out.”  
  
The lass lit up at the suggestion, nodding quickly and grabbing the edge of Kíli's belt. She had been hanging on the edges of the crowd but now she walked forward proudly, leading the dwarf and hobbit up to the gate with confidence.  
  
“Nicely done, my dear,” Bilbo murmured. In one fell swoop, Kíli had won himself both a guide and a protector, one that would make the other hobbits think twice about asking anything too personal. Not that this outcome had occurred to his husband; the dwarf was simply being his usual kindhearted self, reaching out to Isabel just to make her grin.  
  
“Mum, look. This is Kíli. He's a dwarf,” the lass announced once they'd reached the porch.  
  
“We can see that darling,” Anna Took replied, smiling down at her daughter. “But why don't you let your cousin Bilbo here tell us where he's been.”  
  
With the ice broken, introductions moved quite quickly, Took after Took shaking Kíli's hand. The dwarf tried to keep them straight at first but he gave up quickly; at least dwarvish names all rhymed. He just smiled and answered all their questions, promising that he really did love Bilbo and his family was well respected, “Very well respected, actually.”  
  
“My husband is the younger prince of Erebor,” the unicorn explained proudly, smirking at Lobelia. “His uncle is the King of Silver Fountains and the Lord of Carven Stone.”  
  
“Wait, your _husband_?!”  
  
“You got married without us?”  
  
“Well that won't do at all.”  
  
“Hey everyone, this is a wedding party now!”  
  
The surrounding hobbits cheered and several of Bilbo's neighbors ran home to get some food out of their pantries while everyone else moved to the Party Field. Kíli and Bilbo were swept along with the others, their protests about unpacking summarily dismissed. Indeed, it was a good thing that Beorn's ponies were the most placid creatures in existence, content to eat grass in a corner while bedlam reigned upon the field.  
  
The celebration lasted for hours, more and more hobbits arriving as the word of Bilbo's wedding spread. All the unicorn and his dwarf could do was bow to the inevitable, allow the chaos to swirl around them and hold on for the ride.  
  
“I'm so sorry about this,” Bilbo whispered to his husband, wincing when Adalgrim pulled out a fiddle and began to sing along.  
  
“Hey, it could be worse. At least the food is good,” Kíli reassured him, waving the muffin in his hand. “And maybe your cousin there will let me play a song.”  
  
The dwarf talked his way onto the stage a few drinks later, Adalgrim as helpless against those dimples as his cousin was. He handed over his fiddle without hesitation and Kíli began to play a quickstep, one that soon had most of Bilbo's kin dancing on the grass.  
  
 _I didn't know that he could play,_ the unicorn thought, watching his husband's fingers fly across the strings. Somehow instruments had never come up in their conversations but Bilbo was glad that the dwarf could still surprise him; after all, they had a lifetime to learn about each other now.  
  
Three songs later, Kíli returned to the fiddle to its owner, waving tipsily to his disappointed audience. He promised them an encore later before hopping off the stage to look for his husband in the crowd. Rosie Took climbed up in his place and she quickly had the other hobbits gasping in awe as she juggled fireballs.  
  
The dwarf found Bilbo standing with a stranger, a stout hobbit with great branching antlers that he hadn't met before.  
  
“Kíli, love, I'd like you to meet my great-uncle, the Thain of the Shire,” Bilbo said, motioning to the hobbit standing at his side. “He has come to grant us his blessing.”  
  
“I am very pleased to meet you,” the archer told him, pulling out his best courtly bow. He was still a little tipsy but the Thain had a presence that was undeniable. Indeed, his enormous antlers signaled the strength of his connection to the land for the Thains were always chosen from amongst the kin of Forest Gods, the better to protect the Shire from outside enemies.  
  
“Greetings, Son of Durin; you are welcome here,” the Thain intoned before a smile split his face. “We were starting to worry about Bilbo. Unicorns aren't meant to be alone forever but he always had a stubborn heart. You must be very special to have caught my nephew's eye.”  
  
“He is,” Bilbo said, looking at Kíli with such adoration that the archer ducked his head.  
  
“Well, he certainly is a cute one,” the Thain chuckled. “If you ever want another wedding, I'll be happy to officiate, but know that you are already husbands in the eyes of Yavanna and recognized by Shire law. I hope that you'll both be very happy from now on.”  
  
“Thank you,” the dwarf replied sincerely. Then his face twisted with confusion as the Thain suddenly leaned in close to him.  
  
“If you ever hurt my nephew, I will gut you like a fish,” the hobbit promised fiercely, Kíli taking a step back at the murder in his eyes. But then the Thain smiled brightly once again. “Now, has either of you seen Mauve Bolger? I promised my wife I'd ask her for her cupcake recipe.”  
  
Bilbo pointed vaguely northward and the Thain wandered off into the crowd, one slightly panicked dwarf and his husband left behind.  
  
“Congratulations, love. You passed,” the unicorn told Kíli, patting the archer's arm. “The worst is over now.”  
  
“I hope so. That was just...” the dwarf shook his head, visibly pulling himself together and smiling wryly at Bilbo. “You hobbits are strange folk, you know that, lansûn? Strange and wonderful. My life is never going to be boring with all of you around. Though, I have to admit, I'm about ready to crash. It's been a long journey and we still need to unpack before we sleep.”  
  
“That sounds good to me love. Let's get out of here.”  
  
It actually took three more hours, two encores, and one very embarrassing duet before Bilbo and Kíli finally managed to sneak away, taking their ponies and heading toward Bag End as quickly as they could. One or two hobbits noticed their departure but they were so drunk that they just smirked suggestively and turned back to the stage. Rosie Took was trying to light her cousin's hair on fire and no one wanted to miss that.  
  
“Home at last,” Bilbo said a few minutes later, slumping against his front door with a great sigh of relief. The lock clicked shut beneath his hand, all of his relatives safely on the other side.  
  
“It's as nice as I remembered,” Kíli replied, looking around their smial's entrance hall. He had stripped both ponies of their tack before letting them loose in the front garden and he carefully set down his burden on the floor. Packs and chests and presents made quite a pile, but they could finish unpacking later. “You have to show me everything.”  
  
“I will, love. I promise. And I really am sorry about my family,” the unicorn told his husband. “They mean well, I swear; they're just utterly insane.”  
  
“And my family isn't?” Kíli laughed. “I know you met my uncle; I was there.”  
  
The dwarf walked over to Bilbo and wrapped his arms around the hobbit's waist. Kíli smiled again and the unicorn could _feel_ the love pouring off him, warming him from head to toe. Bilbo's own heart was full to bursting and he suddenly knew that he'd never feel the cold again.  
  
“You don't have to apologize to me, Bilbo. Not for your relatives. Because we're home. We're home and we're together and that's all that matters now.”  
  
  
 _End_

 


End file.
